


Demons

by Johannas_Motivational_Insults



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Bullying, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Gaslighting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Self-Harm, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2019-11-13 07:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 98,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18026990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johannas_Motivational_Insults/pseuds/Johannas_Motivational_Insults
Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Bright Moon, Catra and Adora struggle to overcome the effects of how Shadow Weaver abused them and drove them apart.





	1. Unmasked

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched She-Ra a few months ago, but it took me a while to write anything because my feelings were overwhelming and hard to express and also not usual fanfic fare. I connected with Catra’s trauma more than anything else. No one believing in her, abandonment issues… and unfortunately, the child abuse stuff. So that’s what I ended up writing about. There is definitely a lot of Catradora in this story too because goddamn I have Feelings about them, it’s just in the background to start. Adora will have some chapters dedicated to her as well, because her trauma and abuse are also worth unpacking. I’m mostly writing this for myself as a form of catharsis because season 1 really truly fucked me up, but if you can handle it I’m happy to have you along for the ride.
> 
> WARNING: This fic is basically about what it’s like to be a survivor of child abuse, both emotional and physical. There’s some very dark themes and disturbing content in this story, especially the Catra POV chapters. Most of the violent stuff is not graphic, but it is discussed very frankly, and the psychological implications could still be triggering. Read at your own risk. I will include further content warnings for graphic violence as needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is especially dark simply by virtue of who is in it. They won’t all be this bad.

The nightmares are a given, but tonight they’re worse than usual. In sleep her already heightened senses go into overdrive, making her relive scenes in excruciating detail. The burning prickle on her skin and screaming tension in her muscles when Shadow Weaver catches her in a bolt of binding magic. The terror coursing through her veins and making her whole body shake as she’s dragged into Hordak’s throne room and thrown at his feet. The sickening give of ripping flesh as her claws rake down Adora’s back, leaving long gashes in their wake. Adora’s cry of pain.

Catra shoots up in her bed, heart in her throat, eyes darting around the dark room. They adjust in an instant, allowing her to see she’s alone. If only that were a relief. She still hasn’t gotten used to sleeping by herself. Adora’s scream echoes in her head again and she winces, the scars on her own back tingling with sympathy.

Sympathy, huh. Leave it to her to feel sorry for Adora, of all people. A dark chuckle bounces around in Catra’s chest, tongue tucking under her lip. One hand reaches over her shoulder, fingers grazing the ridges of raised skin poking through the thin layer of fur on her back. She doesn’t have a lot of them - Shadow Weaver only made her bleed a handful of times. Only tenderized her skin to the point that it ruptured a handful of times.

Checking on the time, Catra scowls. It’s four in the fucking morning, but she’s wide awake. Her nocturnal proclivities are only partly to blame. It was a miracle she fell asleep in the first place, her whole body has been buzzing with adrenaline ever since that showdown with Shadow Weaver yesterday. Was that really only yesterday? So much happened in a span of, what? Twelve hours? Entrapta’s experiment, the attack on Bright Moon, her promotion to second-in-command. Sure, maybe everything didn’t go her way, but overall yesterday was definitely a win.

So why does her body still feel like it wants to jump out of her skin? She’ll have other chances to triumph in battle, and Shadow Weaver is no longer a threat. Catra stripped her of her power both literally and figuratively. She doesn’t have to fear the binding magic anymore. Then again, that wasn’t what did the most damage to Catra, not by a long shot. It was very unpleasant, of course, unbearable in its own way, if for no other reason than it rendered her as powerless as she always felt. But Shadow Weaver’s primary weapons against her didn’t come from the Black Garnet. They were pain, and fear, and words.

The words were the worst, actually. The fatigue and general soreness that followed the binding magic wore off within a couple of hours. The bruises on her back (and her ass and legs, if she’d really pissed that bitch off) began to fade within days. Even when she bled, the cuts closed quickly enough, took less than a week to fully heal. But Shadow Weaver’s words, well. Those never stopped hurting, never healed and faded into scars.

Catra needs to find a way to exorcise those demons. Maybe then she’ll find some peace.

It makes her fur stand on end just walking up to the prison doors. When she acted out, talked back, or simply existed, she risked ending up here. There was no way for her to predict when - it all seemed to depend on Shadow Weaver’s volatile moods. Sometimes Catra would get lucky and she’d just yell at her or cuff her on the spot, give her a black eye or a stinging cheek and nothing more. But now and again, she’d drag Catra to the prison by her arm or her ear and throw her in a cell. Sometimes she’d return within minutes bearing a staff or a belt, get it over with right away. Sometimes she’d leave Catra there for the rest of the day to think about her insolent behavior before coming back to deliver her punishment. That was the worst part. The waiting.

A few times when she was little, she tried to hide or fight back. It was futile, and stupid. The only place to hide was under the cot and she’d inevitably get dragged out by an ankle or her tail, smacked upside the head before being forced down to her knees. If she was uncooperative in any way Shadow Weaver would hold her in place with the binding magic during the beating, and that made it so much worse. It was better not to resist.

The ride up to the correct floor of cells makes Catra’s stomach all rocky, and not just from the rapid change in elevation. Everything about this place gives her chills. It doesn’t help that it actually is relentlessly cold in here, even for someone covered in fur. Catra drags a claw along the metal wall as she dawdles toward her destination, trying to convince herself she’s savoring the moment, not scared shitless. That gets harder once she reaches the door and her hand wavers over the control pad. Shaking her head sharply, she takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. Shadow Weaver isn’t in control now, she is.

Tapping in a series of commands, Catra alters the force field so she can see through it but Shadow Weaver can’t. To Catra’s surprise she’s not lying but sitting on her cot, very much awake. Maybe she couldn’t sleep either. Being disconnected from the Black Garnet has always caused her pain and distress. Catra’s head tilts as she drinks in the sight of her former commanding officer slumped back against the wall of her cell. The mask is gone, leaving her ugly face exposed to the world. Her eyes are screwed shut in a grimace, fingers rubbing her temples. She doesn’t just look miserable. She looks powerless.

Something feral and predatory rises in Catra’s chest. Disabling the force field with a few quick taps, she prowls into the cell, tail swishing happily. “Look who’s locked up for being naughty now.”

Shadow Weaver slowly opens her eyes, meeting her gaze as the field reactivates behind her. “Come to gloat, I see. Humility was never one of your strengths.” The surprising fortitude in her voice sends a shiver down Catra’s spine. When Shadow Weaver leans forward, her heart stutters and she has to fight the urge to step back. To retreat. Powerless or not, the sorceress seems invigorated by her presence. Maybe Shadow Weaver never needed a magical rock to feel whole. Maybe she just needed someone to abuse.

Hooking her thumbs in her waistband to still her trembling hands, Catra scoffs, “Since when is humility a good thing in the Horde?”

“Soldiers need to be able to put their egos aside and follow orders. You could never do either.”

Her chest puffs out. “Then I guess I’m better suited to being second-in-command.”

“Lord Hordak doesn’t tolerate insubordination,” says Shadow Weaver flatly. “You won’t last two weeks.” Cocking her head, she remarks, “I’m surprised you’re still standing. Your attack on Bright Moon failed.”

Catra doesn’t bother asking how Shadow Weaver knows this, a leftover habit from her childhood. The woman could appear out of thin air. She was everywhere and knew everything. She knew when Catra snuck into the mess hall that one night to scrounge in the trash cans for scraps of food she’d been denied - something Catra never ever risked again. She knew when Adora pecked Catra on the lips in the locker room that one time when they were fifteen, nervous energy trembling in her hands and shining in her bright blue eyes. It was Catra’s fault, of course. She was a distraction. She was jeopardizing Adora’s future, just like Shadow Weaver had warned her about when she was little.

The kiss was worth the punishment she bore afterwards, damn was it ever. But it was not worth the threat of being transferred elsewhere in the Fright Zone, permanently separated from Adora. Kisses were not worth risking everything that meant anything to her in the world. She could bear the pain of being so close to Adora and holding herself back. Barely. But she couldn’t bear the pain of losing her entirely. So she adopted a cool demeanor, acted like the kiss hadn’t affected her and never brought it up again. Adora didn’t either.

Catra frowns down at Shadow Weaver. “The attack went as planned, until three more princesses showed up and ruined everything.” Her jaw clenches, teeth gritting at the memory of having victory - and that traitor Adora - in her clutches, only to have it all ripped away. She should be used to that by now, though. Everything always gets taken away.

“You should have planned for unexpected interventions,” Shadow Weaver scolds her. “Any good commander does.”

Catra snorts. “That explains why you didn’t plan for Princess Sparkles to teleport out of your control and knock you on your ass.”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrow. “I was good at my job, you ungrateful brat. How else do you think I kept it all those years?”

“By making sure everyone else was afraid of you.” Catra clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “Hate to break it to you, Shadow Weaver, but that’s not gonna work anymore.” She bends down to bring her face within inches of Shadow Weaver’s, tail flicking behind her. “You don’t have any powers. You’re weak. You’re nothing.”

“Then I guess we’re on even ground.”

Catra’s lips quirk into an ironic smile. “Let’s not forget who’s locked up.” Straightening up, she prowls back a couple steps and surveys her prisoner, a low noise somewhere between a purr and a growl echoing out of her throat. “Are you being a bad girl? Do you need to miss some meals to remember how to behave?” 

“You’re not fooling anyone, Catra,” Shadow Weaver assures her with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’re just a scared little girl playing dress up.”

“Hordak believes in me.” The words come out hard and determined as her claws dig into her palms.

Now Shadow Weaver flat out laughs. “You foolish child. Lord Hordak doesn’t believe in you. He’s using you, just like he used me. He’ll dispose of you when you’re not worth the trouble anymore, find someone else to take your place.” She tilts her head, making pointed eye contact. “You don’t want to go through that again, do you?”

Catra’s claws are at her throat in an instant. “Say one more word, I dare you.” Shadow Weaver’s lips curl in a truly evil smile, one that makes Catra’s chest ache. She’s still taking so much pleasure in causing her pain. Before Catra even registers the words forming on her tongue, they’re passing her lips. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Shadow Weaver’s eyebrows arch. “You really still need reassurance?” She shakes her head, clucking her tongue. “I always knew you were weak. You’d cry before I even touched you. All I had to do was look at you the wrong way. Good thing I helped you break that nasty habit.”

Catra’s jaw twitches at the memory, one she tries especially hard to keep repressed. That one time Shadow Weaver said she wouldn’t stop until Catra stopped crying. It was particularly cruel, an impossible task… until it wasn’t. Catra got so angry, claws digging deep into her cell’s mattress, hissing at the humiliation as much as the pain. Her eyes dried, a low growl replacing her begging and blubbering. She didn’t understand why Shadow Weaver was doing this, or why it was always her who bore the brunt of her anger and cruelty. All she understood was how powerless she was. That she was at the mercy of a woman who would give her none.

Now that she’s older, she does understand. Shadow Weaver was training her to direct her weakness inward so it didn’t show, to bury her sadness and terror somewhere deep inside her. Catra learned that lesson, but never could apply it consistently. Her emotions have always felt too big for her body, like a swelling river overflowing its banks. She oscillates between numbness and blind rage, her mask of playful indifference shifting and cracking. Sometimes she’ll hold tears in for days without even meaning to, and other times they’ll spring up in her eyes seemingly at random. But that was the last time she ever let Shadow Weaver see her cry. And she never begged anybody for anything ever again.

Catra swallows, steadying her voice before responding. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You were a waste of my time and energy. A waste of space. Your… kind,” Shadow Weaver sneers, “you’re all the same. Impulsive, reckless, ruled by your emotions. I told Lord Hordak we shouldn’t bother with the scrawny little stray, but he insisted I raise you the same as the others.”

“You didn’t,” snaps Catra.

“You required extra attention to bring you into line,” Shadow Weaver informs her, a lilt of vague amusement in her tone. But there’s nothing remotely funny about this.

Catra scoffs. “So why did Adora need so much attention, then?”

That evil smile returns, making Catra’s stomach sink into her bowels. “Tell me, how long did it take you to realize how much you hate her? Was it before or after she abandoned you, just like your parents?”

A surge of emotions rises in Catra’s chest and makes her head spin, but she keeps her face stony. She’s knows Shadow Weaver’s trying to goad another violent reaction for her own amusement so she can mock her some more. She won’t give her the satisfaction. “After.”

It shouldn’t have taken Catra so long, and she knows it. Adora was always the one holding her back, and she wasn’t even a good friend. She was so fucking oblivious that she’d lecture Catra about her behavior, suggest she’d be treated better if she tried harder or was more respectful. As though Shadow Weaver hadn’t started the whole fucking thing when they were barely out of diapers. Adora had a lot of nerve and not a lot of brain. Sometimes Catra wanted to slap her pretty little face and tell her to wake up and look around her, see how unfair everything was.

But she never did. She was too embarrassed that she was being abused and too prideful to accept sympathy. Catra didn’t want Adora to notice how much she was hurting. But, she kind of did. She didn’t want Adora’s pity, she didn’t want her to intervene. All she wanted was for Adora to acknowledge what was happening to her, and that it was wrong. But Adora never noticed, or if she did, she didn’t say anything. Catra isn’t sure which is worse.

“Then I guess we both lack foresight,” reflects Shadow Weaver. Her eyes bore into Catra’s with unmasked contempt. “I should have drowned you in a bucket when you were a kitten. You were always more trouble than you were worth.”

“So you’re saying I was worth something?” Catra forces a grin, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wow. I wish I had Princess Pigtails’s recorder with me, could’ve gotten that on the record.”

“Your one use was keeping Adora happy, but you weren’t enough to make her stay,” Shadow Weaver retorts flatly. “So, no, it turns out you weren’t.”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong, Shadow Weaver. I’ve done more for the Horde than Adora ever could have. No one’s even come close to conquering Bright Moon before.”

“As I hear, we owe that to Princess Entrapta, not you.” Shadow Weaver rolls her eyes. “Any idiot can drive a tank.”

“But I’m the only one who can handle She-Ra.”

“Because Adora pities you so much she can’t bring herself to hurt you,” cooes Shadow Weaver.

One of Catra’s hands rakes through her hair in exasperation. “Why are you so afraid of admitting I’ve made something of myself? I’d think you’d be proud one of your wards was such a success story, especially since Adora was such a massive failure.”

“Proud? You want me to be _proud_ of you?” parrots Shadow Weaver, eyebrows arching. “Not only are you pathetic, you’re delusional. I did everything I could to mold you into a model soldier, and you resisted me the whole way.” She shakes her head. “Try as I might, I always knew there was no taming an animal like you.”

Shadow Weaver did try, Catra can’t deny that. She remembers all too well the attempts to change her nature. How Shadow Weaver forced her into the same sleep schedule as everyone else, how she punished her any time she caught her prowling around on all fours, sniffing the air, using her claws. Catra has no doubt she would have performed better as a cadet if Shadow Weaver had let her use her special abilities, if she hadn’t been so keen on training them out of her. On domesticating her.

Catra’s voice stiffens, matching her posture. “That’s all you saw me as, huh?”

“That shouldn’t matter to you,” Shadow Weaver scolds her. “I raised you to rely on yourself and not need anyone else. But here you are, still desperate for my approval and Adora’s affection, even after she proved how little she cares about you.”

“Shut up,” growls Catra.

“I failed miserably,” says Shadow Weaver. “You’re anything but a success story, Catra. You’re the weakest cadet I’ve ever raised.”

Catra has had enough. Enough of this conversation, enough of Shadow Weaver’s put downs, enough of her abuse. This ends now.

Making a show of slowly taking off her belts, Catra tells her, “You didn’t fail. You made me everything I am. Strong, and angry, and ruthless.” Looping the belts in one hand, she thrusts them under Shadow Weaver’s chin, tipping it up. “When should I stop? When you cry for mercy? When you pass out from the pain?” She can’t quite keep her hand from shaking. “How about when you bleed out?”

Shadow Weaver is unruffled. “Threaten me all you want, you pathetic ball of fluff. I’m not afraid of you.”

A spark of exhilaration rushes through Catra’s veins. Caressing her captive’s chin with her free hand, she flashes her fangs in a wide smirk. “Oh, Shadow Weaver,” she purrs. “You should be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still here? Phew, that was rough. Next chapter is therapy with Scorpia, so it will be lighter. Not that that’s saying much. It’s mostly done so it should be up before too long.


	2. Shreds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my quickest updates ever, but I didn’t want to leave you guys hanging at the end of that ultradark chapter. Though this one is admittedly quite dark in its own way. But yay, we get Scorpia and she can make anything better, right?
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for detailed flashbacks of emotional and implied physical abuse. There’s less direct references to violence than in chapter 1, but the psychological bullshit Shadow Weaver pulls in this chapter is unpleasant to say the least.

Feet dragging, ears flattened, Catra trudges through the empty hallways of the Fright Zone. The soul-crushing numbness that weighs her down conflicts with the cramps in her arm and her gut. She exacted her revenge. She inflicted the same pain on Shadow Weaver that she had on her all these years. In a physical sense, anyway. She couldn’t replicate the binding magic and the put downs that made her feel so powerless, but she returned at least part of the favor.

So why doesn’t she feel better?

This reminds her of how she felt after cutting Adora’s lifeline in the temple and letting her fall. She was walking on air as she exited the ruins, basking in exhilaration and pride. For standing up for herself, for freeing herself from Adora and stepping out of her shadow. But she did have other motives, admittedly. She didn’t just want to cut Adora out of her life, she wanted to hurt Adora like Adora had hurt her. Turning her back on her and leaving her in danger. Leaving her to die. It was satisfying in the moment, but the high had long worn off by the time she made it back to the Fright Zone. Then when Scorpia said that thing about her being the best friend ever, well, it was a dagger straight to the heart.

It shouldn’t have been, though. Adora is the one who ended their friendship. Not only did she abandon Catra to the mercy of Shadow Weaver, after Thaymor she never treated her like a friend again until after Catra helped her escape. Adora’s the one who gave up on them, not Catra. And she had the gall to act like things could go back to normal. Stupid fucking Adora with her stupid fucking face. She couldn’t even begin to understand why Catra was so angry. Catra shouldn’t have expected any better, though. This was the same Adora who loved attention and praise so much she didn’t even notice the horrific things Shadow Weaver was doing to her best friend.

Arriving at the large gym near the simulation area, Catra peeks inside. Thankfully it’s empty. Even the Adoras of the Horde don’t train this early. Catra growls as she stalks over to the boxing area, fists and shoulders clenching. Rage is eating at her insides, demanding a way out. Zeroing in on one of the heavy bags, she attacks it with everything in her, hissing and punching and swiping.

When her muscles are burning and her lungs screaming for air, Catra steps back and wipes her sweaty brow, chest heaving with effort. Her eyes lock onto the collection of gashes in the bag and she freezes. Her heart stutters, sweat breaking out on her palms. Knowing Shadow Weaver is locked up and can’t punish her anymore does little to quell the anxiety roiling in her gut. It’s been burned into her permanently. If Shadow Weaver found claw marks in anything it would usually land Catra a thorough belting interspersed with a lecture about her destructive nature. That was part of why she was so jumpy when Shadow Weaver accosted her in the barracks after her failed mission to rescue Adora. Adora’s bunk was in shreds behind her, and that scratched drawing was just out of Shadow Weaver’s view...

A new wave of anger wells up in her chest and she lets loose another flurry of punches, half grunting and half yelling with every strike. She runs out of energy quickly and has to brace her hands on her knees, leaning forward as she tries to catch her breath. Nausea and dizziness swirl in her head, her limbs shaking with exhaustion and unspent emotion. Her mind and body yearn to fall apart, and it’s tempting to give in.

Forcing herself to stand, Catra braces her forearm on the bag and rests her clammy forehead against it. Her breaths come in heaving, stuttering gasps. Tracks of sweat run down her face and drip from her chin, spattering on the floor beneath her. Feeling herself swaying on her feet a little, she moves her arm to wrap around the bag and lets her cheek fall against the rough canvas, eyes slipping shut. For a moment, just one harmless moment, she allows herself to pretend it’s the smooth and sweet-smelling skin of the only person she’d ever allow to hold her up like this. Pretend she’s wrapped in a pair of impossibly strong arms. Pretend she’ll ever get to nuzzle into the crook of her neck again.

“Hi, Catra!”

Catra just about jumps out of her skin. She turns to glare at Scorpia, who’s grinning obliviously as she approaches. “I didn’t take you for an early riser. Oo, we should be workout buddies! How often do you-” Scorpia stops in her tracks, staring at Catra’s face. “Are you crying?”

Her eyes narrow irritably. “No? I’m just sweating.” What a dumb question. She moves to disprove the assertion, touching under her eyes. They go wide as she feels the hot and sticky skin at the top of her cheeks. Oh. Giving Scorpia a casual shrug, she bluffs, “I guess my eyes are watering from the exertion? That’s weird.”

The concern doesn’t leave Scorpia’s face, but she lets it go. “Well, here, then you’d better take extra care to stay hydrated,” she says, passing Catra one of the three canteens cradled in the crook of her huge arm.

Catra accepts the water with a weak smile. “Thanks, Scorpia.”

“No thanks needed, you’re my best buddy!” Scorpia leans in with a conspiratory grin. “Don’t tell Entrapta.”

Chuckling inwardly, Catra assures her, “Your secret’s safe with me.” Unscrewing the lid, she puts the canteen to her lips and begins to chug.

As she wipes her mouth, Scorpia perks up, “So… should I get you a picture for the punching bag?”

“Huh?”

Gesturing at the shredded bag, Scorpia specifies, “You know, like the one you said Adora put on the bag in your locker room? The one of the queen?”

Catra shifts her weight uneasily but forces herself to keep a blank face. She was foolish to leave evidence of her rampage in such plain sight. Too much emotion is considered weakness in the Horde, even if that emotion is anger. “Oh. That.”

“Then you can beat up whoever it is that’s making you so-” Catra’s heated glare cuts her off, and her face flickers. “It’s not me, is it?”

Eyes falling, Catra mutters, “No.”

“Adora?”

“NO.” Scorpia raises an eyebrow and Catra’s mouth twists in a scowl. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Right, you’re into less talking, more punching,” Scorpia teases her with a half-hearted smile.

Catra gives a decisive nod. “That about sums it up.” 

Scorpia puts up her dukes, sporting a genuine grin this time. “Good thing I’m as good at boxing as I am at listening.” Catra might protest if she didn’t know Scorpia wouldn’t take no for an answer. Stubbornly kind assholes seem to be a constant in her life. Catra might protest if Scorpia wasn’t already gripping her shirt in her pincers and tugging her toward the ring. “Come on!”

Catra might protest if some part of her didn’t actually want the company. And to hit things, of course.

It occurs to Catra as she retracts her claws and pulls on the gloves that Scorpia might have suggested this to keep her from destroying any more equipment. The woman may have some brains after all. Scorpia can’t wear gloves, of course, but she grabs a pair of punching mitts in her claws and holds them up as targets. As always, she’s full of encouragements.

“Jab, jab, cross! You got this!”

“Keep your guard up, Catra! You’re usually so good at that!” (Catra scowls at that one, but Scorpia’s grinning ear-to-ear and she can’t bring herself to yell at her.)

“Come on, hit me harder! Is that all you’ve got?”

In time, Catra actually finds herself smiling. Maybe Adora was right about working out making people feel happier. Catra always thought that was a lie to convince her to join her at the gym. But, no. This is actually fun. Everything is going great until Catra accidentally drops her guard hand again and Scorpia promptly smacks one of the mitts into the side of her face. The blow is hard and comes out of nowhere, knocking her on her ass. Aghast, Catra checks her mouth for blood and stares wide-eyed at the woman towering over her. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You left yourself open,” she answers matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to hit me!” protests Catra.

“Sorry, but it was for your own good,” shrugs Scorpia. “I already tried telling you. Sometimes getting hit is how you have to learn.”

The floor of the ring might as well have dropped out from under Catra. The blood drains from her head and for a second she could swear she’s about to pass out. She squeezes her eyes shut in determination, fighting to stay conscious and avoid the nightmares lurking on the other side. The words ring in her ears anyway.

_“You brought this upon yourself, you know. You wouldn’t listen, you just had to keep misbehaving, didn’t you?” Catra could feel Shadow Weaver bending down over her kneeling, quivering form. “Now this is how you have to learn your lesson,” she continued with an eerie sweetness, running a hand over Catra’s head in what could have been a comforting pet otherwise. “This is for your own good, Catra.”_

Growling into her gritted teeth, Catra clenches her fists and drives them into the floor. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she seethes, pushing herself to her feet. “That’s an order, Force Captain.”

Before Scorpia has a chance to respond, Catra’s throwing herself at her with a new fury. Her punches come fast and vicious, hard enough to make Scorpia step back to regain her balance. Catra can feel herself getting sloppy again, but Scorpia wisely refrains from taking any more potshots. Catra could very well kill someone in her current state. She’s so tired of trying to hold everything back. By the time her eyes start to prickle and burn, she’s screaming with the punches.

“Catra?” She can’t see Scorpia’s face through the tears flooding her eyes, but Catra can hear how worried she is. It only pisses her off more. Throwing one last combo with a blistering battlecry, she turns and storms out of the ring. Ripping off her gloves, she pitches them to the side and kicks a stool across the room on her way to the bench where she left her water.

Picking up the canteen with a shaky hand, Catra ignores the feeling of eyes on her back. Her uncooperative fingers struggle with the lid, amplifying her frustration, but she finally gets it open as Scorpia steps up beside her. Avoiding her gaze, Catra calmly sits and drinks like nothing happened, like she didn’t just have a minor meltdown in front of one of her immediate subordinates. Scorpia watches her a moment before joining her in sitting. Another beat passes before she ventures, “I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. That’s how I usually teach cadets who want to learn how to box, it wasn’t personal.”

“It’s fine,” mutters Catra, keeping her tear-streaked face angled away from Scorpia’s inquisitive eyes.

She’s just screwing the lid back on her water when Scorpia tells her, “Hey look, I don’t mind if you cry, you know. It’s not a big deal.”

Catra chuckles darkly, wiping the residual tears from her eyes. “Yeah, you didn’t grow up with Shadow Weaver breathing down your neck.”

Scorpia’s horrified expression makes Catra laugh again. Princesses are so fucking sheltered. “She punished you guys for crying?”

“At least when it was me.” Catra’s rueful smile fades as she considers this further. “The other cadets would cry too sometimes, I don’t remember her ever coming down on them so hard.” Nibbling the inside of her lip, she stares down at her fidgeting hands. “But they aren’t like me.”

“Duh, no one’s as cool as you.”

“No, I mean…” Catra shifts on the bench. “She said my kind are all ruled by their emotions, and I guess she wanted to train that out of me.”

“Your kind…” Scorpia’s eyes narrow before popping open suddenly. “Oh, you mean the Magicats?”

Catra’s eyebrows twitch half-heartedly. “Is that what I am?”

“You might be part human too,” muses Scorpia. “I’ve never actually seen one before you. But I heard about them. My kingdom was at war with them for years before Hordak wiped them out.”

Her ears perk up, eyes going wide. “What?”

“It was part of the deal my father made when he gave Hordak the Black Garnet. Help us defend our kingdom from that clan that kept trying to steal our territory. I don’t think he expected Hordak to attack their settlement, but it did solve the problem.” Quickly catching Catra’s eye, she tacks on, “No offense.”

“None taken,” Catra mutters absently. Her brow creases in thought. “Shadow Weaver always told me my parents abandoned me. Maybe they were just dead.”

“Would that be better or worse?”

Better. Definitely better. “I don’t know.”

Examining her pincers, Scorpia ruminates, “Well, Hordak destroyed their kingdom, but there’s nothing to say some of them didn’t get out. They could still be alive. Could have lost you in the chaos.”

Catra stares at her in what can only be described as amazement. “How did you ever end up in the Horde?”

“I told you, my fath-“

“No, I mean you don’t belong here.” Scorpia’s face falls and an alarm bell goes off in Catra’s head. “Oh shit, no. Scorpia, I didn’t mean it like that,” she says quickly. Noticing her hand has landed on one of Scorpia’s pincers, she decides to leave it there. “I just meant you’re such a kind person, and the Horde isn’t exactly spreading kindness around Etheria.”

Scorpia sighs. “Yeah, maybe it’s not the best fit. But at least here I can be who I am. I’m not an outcast, or a freak.”

Retreating back into her own space, Catra mutters, “Lucky you.”

“Shadow Weaver’s stupid, and a jerk,” says Scorpia. “Don’t worry about what she said. She’s not in charge anymore, what she thinks doesn’t matter.”

Lips pursing, Catra rests her elbows on her knees and glares across the room. Several moments pass before she feels a light pressure on her head and shrinks into herself. Scorpia is undeterred, bless her soul. The light scratching sensation that made Catra tense up begins to have the opposite effect after a few seconds. It feels different with claws instead of fingernails, but it’s still… kind of nice? Before Catra realizes it, she’s gently pushing up against Scorpia’s pincer, silently asking for more. Scorpia indulges her with a chuckle, which really should make her indignant, but she’s too tired for that. With a resigned sigh, Catra decides to allow herself this moment of weakness. She’s barely had any comforting touch since Adora left, and it’s probably contributing to her current mental state. Maybe… maybe letting Scorpia in wouldn’t kill her? But that’s probably the petting talking. She’ll no doubt feel very different the next time Scorpia opens her big mouth.

Content to wait and find out, Catra doesn’t react again until the tip of Scorpia’s claw grazes her ear. A jolt of terror shoots through her body and she ducks away, eyes wide and trained on Scorpia. “Sorry, sorry.” Scorpia’s claws go up in a gesture of innocence. “Ten foot radius, I know.”

Catra’s muscles unlock after a few seconds, allowing her to exhale and roll her eyes in both relief and aggravation. Rolling off the bench with a shudder, she begins pacing back and forth, rubbing her arms to combat the crawling feeling in her skin. Adora was the only person she could ever stand touching her ears, and even with her it set her a little on edge, as good as it felt. One more thing Shadow Weaver ruined for her.

Shadow Weaver enjoyed using Catra’s anatomical abnormalities against her, making her feel even more out of place. Her tail, when she was feeling particularly cruel. Mostly her ears. They were so vulnerable and easy to grab. The first time she did it was also one of the first times she dragged Catra to the prison, but not the first. Definitely not the first, because Catra knew what was in store for her. Though it was well over a decade ago, she can distinctly remember digging her heels into the metal flooring in a panic, her voice coming out in a pathetic squeak.

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!”_

_“Yes, you will be sorry.”_

_The promise of pain sent tears streaming down Catra’s cheeks. “Please, I’ll be good, I promise.”_

_“Do you want to be punished for lying, too? You’ve never been anything but trouble. There isn’t a shred of goodness in you.” Shadow Weaver’s spindly fingers tightened around Catra’s ear, making her whimper as her tiny legs struggled to keep pace. “You’re a bad girl, Catra. And bad girls get punished.”_

“Catra!” A pair of pincers on her shoulders stops Catra in her tracks, making her eyes fly open. “Catra, what’s wrong?” Scorpia looks more than worried, now. She almost looks scared. Catra shakes her head sharply, avoiding Scorpia’s kind eyes. Even if she wanted to tell her, she can’t seem to form words at the moment. She turns away, back hunched and shoulders up at her ears, clenching and unfurling her fists on repeat. Because Scorpia has a fucking death wish, she doesn’t shut up. “Look, I’m your friend. You can talk to me.”

“I don’t need friends,” snaps Catra, wheeling around to face her. “I don’t need anyone else letting me down.”

Sympathy fills Scorpia’s eyes. Catra can’t stand it. “So it _is_ Adora.”

Catra sighs, rubbing her throbbing forehead with the heel of her hand. Scorpia already seems convinced of this, and it would be easier to admit to this one small thing than explain the entirety of what’s going on in her head. Less painful, too. Gritting her teeth, Catra glares down at the floor. “I guess that’s part of it.”

“Forget about her. She was a terrible friend. She left you.” Scorpia starts to raise a comforting claw but drops her arm as Catra shrinks away. Pushing her disappointment aside, she gives Catra a soft and reassuring smile. “You know I’d never do that, right?”

Scorpia’s promise causes a sinking feeling in Catra’s chest, her brain buzzing with a horrifying realization. She’s doing the same thing to Scorpia and Entrapta as Adora did to her. Making them feel like she cares about them, like they can trust her. She’s going to let them down too. She’s going to hurt them. And before now she never even gave it a second thought.

Shadow Weaver was right. Adora was wrong. She is a bad person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God damn it, Catra, let yourself be loved 2k19.
> 
> Next chapter we finally get some Adora POV! That update will definitely take longer, but I’ll be sure to make it worth the wait. :)


	3. (Not) My Fault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some Adora POV? This chapter's a little longer to accomodate our first extended flashbacks!
> 
> No major content warnings apply... this chapter is heart-breaking on multiple levels but not especially traumatic, at least not compared to the first two.

Nose wrinkling as she slowly comes to, Adora groans and turns her face into the mattress, straightening her cramped neck. It’s far from the most bothersome sensation in her body at the moment, but at least it’s easily remedied. She doesn’t usually sleep on her stomach, but she didn’t have much of a choice last night. The best she could do was knock herself out with some numbing potion, keep her weight off her back and hope for the best. Gritting her teeth, she whimpers as her eyes flutter open and the pain hits her full force. It’s even worse than yesterday.

Usually the wounds she sustains as She-Ra begin to heal when she transforms back, if not sooner. But these ones are different. The injury baffled the healers when Glimmer and Bow literally dragged her to the infirmary last night after she nearly passed out while trying to remove her jacket. Far from healing, the gashes in her back were inflamed and starting to fester. Adora answered question after question as the healers tried to deduce the cause of the uncharacteristic infection. No, she wasn’t sick to begin with. No, she doesn’t have a history of injuries like this. No, Catra’s not a magical creature. She hates magic, for good reason.

Frustrated with the endless questioning, Adora supplied her own theory. Maybe it had something to do with her close connection to her assailant. Light Hope had said that thing about Mara being weakened by her relationships, so maybe it had something to do with that. The healers exchanged an awkward glance and said they’d ask Castaspella about it when she arrived in the morning. Mystacor has more information on She-Ra and the First Ones than any other kingdom. Thankfully they left it at that and sent her away with fresh bandages and a potion for the pain.

Said pain is threatening to drive her from her bed to go find more of this potion, but she knows moving at all is going to hurt even more. Besides, she hates going to see healers. There was always a certain stigma attached to that in the Horde. They may have had an infirmary, but most soldiers avoided it like the plague. One time Lonnie broke a finger in a fist fight and didn’t seek treatment, didn’t even realize it was broken until it started to heal funny. At that point, it was break it again or let it stay that way. Lonnie chose the former because even minor disfigurement was frowned upon as well. The Horde’s unspeakably injured soldiers all seemed to disappear into background jobs, never to be seen again. They would never cast anyone out, of course, but reminders of the horrors of war would dampen morale. Adora refused to sneak around past curfew with Catra anymore after the time they came across a night janitor without a face. She gave the tween girls what appeared to be a sad look as Adora dragged Catra away with a shriek.

Catra didn’t seem scared. In fact, once they were out of earshot she pulled Adora aside and scolded her for being mean. Adora balked and insisted she couldn’t help it, and Catra rolled her eyes. Her weird, beautiful eyes that got her so much grief. That’s when Adora understood, and apologized. But not to the janitor. She was too scared to go back. Catra said she’d do it for her some time.

Those weird, beautiful eyes. Adora exhales and tries to forget. Not the girl she knew, but the girl she knows now. If she concentrates very hard, she can forget the last several weeks. Forget that Catra is the source of her anguish, both emotional and physical. The injury was an accident. Adora’s back got burned by a training robot with a malfunctioning laser beam, and Catra’s not asleep at her feet because she got up to go get Adora her medicine.

Medicine. Adora groans again, the fantasy falling away. The pain is getting worse, and she’s moments away from giving in and getting up when she hears the telltale twinkling sound of teleportation. She turns her head back to see Glimmer appearing at her bedside in a shower of sparkles. “Morning, sleepyhead!”

Bow bursts through her doors a second later, toting a tray. “We brought you breakfast! And more medicine.” Oh, thank the First Ones. Adora smiles gratefully as he sets the tray down on her bedside table. Ever the diligent mom friend, he reminds her, “Don’t forget, you need to report to the infirmary in half an hour so they can treat your wounds again.”

Adora blinks. She was supposed to check back in twelve hours, not eight. Eyes narrowing, she turns her head all the way to the left to look out her window. Seeing the sun high in the sky almost makes Adora panic. She’s always been a crack of dawn kind of girl, not that the Horde gave her much choice in the matter. Pushing herself off the mattress, she bites back a yelp as her back arches. Struggling to keep a grimace off her face, she slowly - very, very slowly - twists her hips so she can sit up. The others reach for her in concern but she waves them off. Once she’s got her butt firmly on the mattress, she squints up at them. “Why did you guys let me sleep in?”

“Are you kidding?” scoffs Glimmer.

Bow gives Glimmer a look and answers more directly as he hands Adora her medicine. “The healers said you need to rest.”

Adora narrows her eyes over the cup at her lips. Downing the disgusting cocktail in one gulp, she shakes her head. “No, what I need is to find a way to heal the Whispering Woods so the Horde can’t attack us again.” Wincing as she stands, Adora fishes in her hip pocket for her hair tie. “She-Ra fixed the runestones, I’m sure she can fix the woods.” When she automatically starts to raise her hands to gather her hair, a cry of pain rockets out of her lungs before she can stop it.

Exchanging a glance with Bow, Glimmer wordlessly takes the hair tie and moves behind Adora. “Maybe She-Ra can do that,” Bow agrees gently as Glimmer does her ponytail. “But Adora can barely get out of bed.”

Her head shakes sharply. “Adora doesn’t matter.”

“What?” As Adora brushes by him on the way to her wardrobe, Bow protests, “Adora, slow down. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” she assures him as she digs out her sword, smiling at the powerful feeling she gets just from touching the hilt. That sense of power can remedy just about anything, except for apparently these special wounds on her back. And her broken heart.

Glimmer slaps a hand against the side of the blade as Adora starts to lift it. “No, you’re very much not fine.”

“Guys, stop it,” snaps Adora. “Seriously. I’ve trained through worse injuries in the Horde.”

Glimmer’s eyes bulge. “And you think that’s a good thing?”

“That’s not the point. I can handle working through pain, and if I can help then I’ll gladly do it.” Sheathing the sword, Adora wraps the strap around her waist so she doesn’t have to reach all the way over her shoulder just to summon She-Ra. She doesn’t bother with her jacket for similar reasons.

As Adora secures the sheath’s buckle on her hip, Glimmer mutters, “This is so messed up.”

“What is? Putting the greater good above my own needs?” Adora crosses her arms defensively and glares down at her currently very annoying friend. “I was raised as a soldier, not a princess. If I thought the way you do, I never would’ve left my best friend behind to join your rebellion.”

Fists tightening at her sides, Glimmer shoots Adora a withering glare and teleports out of the room. As the last sparkles fade in her wake, Bow clears his throat. “That was a little harsh.”

He’s right. Adora usually makes a point of being kind to people, especially her friends. But right now she hurts inside and out and is exhausted despite the long sleep she just had, and she’s much more irritable than usual. And admitting she’s wrong has never been easy for her. Avoiding his gaze, she mutters, “Not everyone gets raised in the lap of luxury, Bow. Even I had it better than a lot of people in the Horde.”

Bow must see the glint of sadness in her eyes. Hand cupping her shoulder, he asks, “Like Catra?”

Adora sighs. “Yeah. Like Catra.”

Her fingers graze the sword’s hilt and he interjects, “Can you at least eat before you go out there and wreck yourself? You have to go to the infirmary anyway, save your She-Ra-ing for after.”

“They’ll just tell me to go back to bed. Trust me, I’m fine, I don’t need a check up.” But she does swipe a pastry off her tray to satisfy Bow… and because she is admittedly pretty hungry. Can’t perform well on an empty stomach, that’s what Shadow Weaver always used to say. Pushing that thought aside, Adora grimaces as she manages to lift her sword to shoulder height. Mouth full of flaky goodness, she gets out a muffled, “For the honor of Grayskull!”

It’s good enough. Adora feels her muscles bulging, flesh and bones stretching as she rises off the floor, settling into her new form. It’s not nearly as weird and disorienting as it used to be. Shoving the rest of the pastry in her mouth, she heads for the door.

She and Bow have taken maybe ten steps down the hall when Queen Angella rounds the nearest corner, making them freeze in their tracks. Glimmer and a pair of guards follow close behind her. “And just where do you think you’re going, young lady?” she demands as Glimmer stops beside her, wearing a scowl that Adora reflects right back at her.

“To the infirmary, ma’am,” Adora answers with a straight face.

Angella raises an unconvinced eyebrow. “As She-Ra?”

“I heal faster as She-Ra.”

“I see.” Angella gestures beyond her and Bow. “You do know the infirmary is that way, right?”

Adora’s shoulders fall with a sigh. There’s no point continuing to bullshit. Glimmer’s already narced on her anyway. “Your Majesty, I want to serve the rebellion, like I said the day I pledged my sword to you. I can’t do that while lying around in the infirmary.”

“There’s nothing you can do right now,” Angella assures her. “We’re not under attack, and Casta is working on a protection spell to shield us until the woods can recover.”

Eyes roaming around the hallway, Adora shifts her weight. “Please, I can’t stand lying around not helping. I need to do something.” She perks up at a new thought. “She-Ra’s great at lifting things. I can help with the rebuilding effort, if nothing else.”

“And reopen those gashes?” sighs Angella. “No. You need to heal your own wounds before you can heal anything else.”

“But Your Majesty-”

“No buts. Go to your room and rest, Adora. That’s an order.”

Adora’s nails dig into her palm but she nods curtly, eyes on the floor. If there’s anything she’s good at, it’s following orders. Angella sends her away with a promise to send the healers up to treat her in her room. Adora waits until the doors close behind Bow and Glimmer to react, hurling the sword into the opposite wall with a frustrated yell. The movement makes her wounds scream in protest, but it’s worth it.

“Adora!” Bow’s shocked voice rings through the room and she turns to meet his gaze, breathing heavily from emotion more than exertion. Bow and Glimmer begin to close in on her, concern plain as day on their faces. “What’s wrong?”

Feeling She-Ra’s power ebbing along with her anger, Adora lets go and allows herself to detransform. Averting her eyes as she shrinks, she wraps an arm across her stomach and grabs above her elbow. “This is all my fault.”

“What?” asks Glimmer, hurrying to her side. “What is?”

“If I’d said something or done something different in that temple…” Adora’s head falls into her hands. “All I did was make her more angry. I provoked the attack. I provoked her.”

Face darkening, Glimmer practically spits the words, “Adora, that animal is not your responsibility.”

“Don’t call her that,” snaps Adora, stepping back in disbelief. “You sound like Shadow Weaver.” Scowling at the floor, she mutters, “Aside from the ‘not my responsibility’ part.”

Glimmer’s hands fly up. “Why not call it like it is? She’s a fucking savage, Adora!”

Stepping between them, Bow starts, “Guys, can we maybe-”

“She almost destroyed my home, she tried to kill my mom,” Glimmer continues to rant, cutting him off. “She tried to kill me! She’s the one who did this to you! Why are you defending her?”

Adora growls under her breath, on the verge of truly losing her temper. “I’m not defending her.”

“Oh, really?”

“Why are you being such an asshole?”

“Guys!” Both girls stop and stare at Bow, who’s raised his voice for the first time Adora can ever remember. Bracing a hand against each of their shoulders, he takes a turn looking each of them in the eye. “Can we please take it down a notch? We can discuss this without screaming our heads off.”

Adora shuts her eyes and pushes out a slow breath, pulling her shoulders back to stand up tall. Her eyes flick back open and take in a still seething Glimmer. “Look, I’m not defending what she did. All I’m saying is she’s a person, not an animal. That’s… a sore spot. I assume you haven’t spent your whole life being called the freak with the ears.” Glimmer’s eyes flick away in what appears to be shame, but Adora’s not quite done yet. Setting her jaw, she mutters, “And she has a name. You don’t have to be so rude.”

“Fine,” huffs Glimmer, rolling her eyes. But she does make the effort to stay calm as she expresses, “The point I was making is that _Catra_ is not your responsibility. The things she does are not your fault.” Her voice and eyes soften further as she holds Adora’s gaze. “Really, they’re not.”

Sighing heavily, Adora sinks down onto the edge of her bed. “I know. I know that.”

“But you don’t believe it,” Bow surmises. Adora gives a glum shake of her head in agreement. “So this is a Shadow Weaver thing?”

Adora scoffs down at her hands. “Everything’s a Shadow Weaver thing.”

_Wiping her clammy palms on her uniform pants, Adora rocked on her heels outside the Black Garnet Chamber, gathering the courage to knock. Shadow Weaver didn’t like interruptions, but Adora had a problem that needed solving. And if she couldn’t solve it, her mind would stay in hyperdrive and deny her any rest. She knocked. The door slid up and open with a powerful whoosh. “Adora, what a nice surprise.”_

_Adora released a subtle sigh of relief and greeted her commanding officer with a stiff salute. “Shadow Weaver. Do you have a minute?”_

_“Of course, child. Come in.” The door slid shut behind Adora and she locked her fidgeting fingers together as Shadow Weaver looked up from her cauldron. “What’s on your mind?”_

_“I’m worried about Catra,” Adora blurted before she could lose her nerve. Catra was usually a sore subject with Shadow Weaver, but Adora needed to do something. Her usual ways of helping Catra weren’t working, and she could never stand feeling powerless to help. Not at five, and certainly not at fifteen._

_Shadow Weaver’s voice hardened. “She’s not misbehaving again, is she?”_

_“No! No, anything but.” Adora’s knuckles went white as the compulsion to fidget grew stronger. “She’s just been acting strange since she got back yesterday.”_

_“Strange?” pressed Shadow Weaver._

_“Just… not like herself.”_

_“Is that a bad thing?” It was meant to be a joke, but Adora only frowned. “Adora, I sent Catra to train with the senior cadets so she could see how badly she would fare if she continued her tardy and truant ways. Perhaps she's learned her lesson and is now concentrating on becoming a better soldier.”_

_“I don’t think so, she seems pretty out of it.” Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed slightly and Adora quickly clarified, “I don’t mean she’s being lazy. She’ll barely talk to anyone, not even me. She’s covered in bruises. I’m worried they might have done something to her. Bullied her, attacked her outside of training.”_

_“Why would they do that?” Shadow Weaver sounded genuinely surprised, and it made Adora’s brow crease. This shouldn’t have been a large leap to make._

_“Because she’s different,” Adora spelled out. Catra had spent her entire life fending off the older kids who’d corner her in the hallways and taunt her, pulling her tail and mocking her mismatched eyes. If she hissed and unsheathed her claws, that would only make them laugh harder. Usually she just stood there scowling at the floor, swatting away any probing hands but not lashing out for fear of being mocked for her fiery temper as well. Adora didn’t mind threatening them with violence, though. Her honor wasn’t at stake, and she was universally feared and respected, even by the older cadets._

_“It’s been going on for years,” added Adora, “but usually I’m there to protect her.” And comfort her. Those encounters always upset Catra and she’d end up curled up in Adora’s lap later with her arms around her neck and tail around her waist, silent tears dripping onto her collarbone. Adora wished she could hold Catra like that now, but she wasn’t coming to her for comfort this time._

_Shadow Weaver slowly floated closer, pulling Adora from her thoughts. “Catra’s not becoming a distraction for you, is she?”_

_Adora stiffened, fighting to keep her eyes from bulging and giving her away. No, Shadow Weaver couldn’t know. They’d been alone in the locker room. Adora was sure of it. She wouldn’t have tried it with anyone else around, it’d been nerve-wracking enough as it was. Even more nerve-wracking than this conversation. While Shadow Weaver’s tone wasn’t exactly threatening, Adora had a feeling someone would suffer for it if she thought this true. Probably Catra. It was always Catra. Keeping her face as blank as possible, she asked, “Distraction, ma’am?”_

_“You have such potential, Adora,” Shadow Weaver gushed, grazing the back of her hand down Adora’s jaw. “You need to focus on your own development, not worry about cadets who aren’t interested in pulling their weight.”_

_Adora’s eyes narrowed slightly. “With respect, Shadow Weaver, you always told me to keep an eye on her. That’s what I’m trying to do.”_

_“Yes, and I appreciate your efforts to keep her out of trouble.” Adora could hear the deprecating smirk hidden behind her mask when she added, “I know how difficult that can be.”_

_“This isn’t a joke,” snapped Adora._

_The air around them darkened and Adora shot back into a rigid posture. Eyes flashing and hair levitating ominously behind her, Shadow Weaver annunciated each word. “What did you say?”_

_Adora’s heart pounded in her ears. That tone was the same one she’d heard on any of the rare occasions she’d witnessed Shadow Weaver slapping Catra or one of the other cadets. Usually Catra, she was the one who talked back the most. It had never happened to Adora, though. Adora was a good girl. “Nothing, ma’am.”_

_The darkness receded and Adora released a shuddering breath. Reaching in tenderly, Shadow Weaver brushed a loose tendril of hair behind Adora’s ear. “You’re such a good friend, Adora. She really doesn’t deserve you.” She gave her cheek a soft pat that contrasted the blow Adora had been expecting seconds earlier. It made her skin crawl. “Go on, now.”_

“Hey, Adora?” Adora’s eyelashes flutter at Glimmer’s words. That phrase always sounds weird coming out of anyone else’s mouth. Adora hums and raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement, only now registering her friends seated on either side of her. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She swallows and gives her head a shake, meeting Glimmer’s eyes. “Sorry I snapped at you.”

Glimmer at least has the decency to look embarrassed. She gives Adora’s knee a little squeeze and reciprocates. “I’m sorry too.”

Adora places a hand over Glimmer’s. “I know you guys are just trying to look out for me. And I appreciate it, ‘cause I’m not the greatest at looking out for myself.”

“You’re damn right, you’re not.” Glimmer grins and slings an arm over her shoulder, pulling her into a hug. “It’s okay. You’ve got a lot to unlearn, but we want to help you.”

“That’s right,” Bow chimes in, joining the hug to make an Adora sandwich. They love doing that, and Adora doesn’t mind. It’s a little weird learning to accept comfort when you’ve always prided yourself on being the one who comforts and protects, but Adora’s getting better at it. She’s found she appreciates the support, even after years of telling herself she didn’t need any. Giving her an extra squeeze, Bow reminds her, “We’re the best friend squad, we look out for each other.”

Adora’s face falls. Thankfully Glimmer’s head is tucked into her neck, because hurting her feelings again so soon is not something Adora wants. But Bow’s words remind her too much of the promise she broke to her best friend. Her real best friend. Worst enemy. Whatever.

Ever since their confrontation in the temple a couple nights ago, Adora’s stomach has felt unsettled, to say the least. Catra was so angry and saying all these things Adora didn’t understand. Adora never protected her. She didn’t need Adora’s help. Didn’t need her. Didn’t want her. It left Adora feeling like she’d been missing something all these years. Catra was supposedly her best friend, but as she turned her back and left her hanging on that cliff face, Adora felt like she didn’t know her at all. She hasn’t had much time to reflect on it since, what with the battle and all, but the question has continued to eat at her gut this whole time. Where did she go wrong?

_Frustrated from her fruitless meeting with Shadow Weaver, Adora snuck glances across the table at Catra as she quietly ate her dinner, barely looking up from her plate. Adora didn’t dare ask about the conspicuous bruises on her arms and neck, but she frowned as she considered their potential origins. What kind of training exercise gives you bruises on your neck? Chokeholds, possibly? Yes, that must have been it. That had to be it. The thought of the seniors strangling Catra for the fun of it was too much to bear._

_Catra always seemed most alive in the evenings, revved up for some kind of caper she would inevitably drag Adora into. Her internal clock had never entirely adjusted to human hours. But that evening, just like the one previous, Catra opted to retire to the barracks after dinner. Adora went with her because that’s what they did. Eyes narrowed in concern, she watched as Catra eased herself down onto the edge of their bunk with a wince that she tried to hide. Heart aching, Adora sat beside her and laid what should have been a comforting hand on her back, but the contact made her flinch. Adora couldn’t help her sympathetic grimace. “They really gave it to you, huh?”_

_“Well, they know what they’re doing,” Catra mumbled vacantly. “That’s why they’re senior cadets.”_

_Adora squinted and gave her a bit of sass. “I think it’s because they’re eighteen, actually.”_

_“Ugh,” Catra drew out in an exasperated groan that made Adora smile. Now that, that sounded like Catra. “You’re such a nerd.”_

_Pulling her in closer, Adora reached over and rubbed a light noogie into the top of her head. “That’s why you like me.”_

_Catra’s chuckle was hollow but she barely tried to pull away. “Whatever you say, Adora.” Choosing to interpret the mixed signals as good, Adora released Catra’s shoulders to run her fingers through her hair. Digging her nails in for a light scratch, she drew out a very quiet purr. Much less of one than usual, but a purr nonetheless. Testing her luck, she slid her fingers back to massage behind Catra’s ears. They flicked and perked up initially but then flattened under her touch. Catra sighed. “Don’t…”_

_“Don’t what?” When Catra didn’t answer, Adora tipped her head so she could see her face better. “Am I hurting you?” A couple seconds passed before Catra swallowed and nodded slightly. Adora quickly lifted her hand and gently slid it down Catra’s arm to find her hand, one of the few parts of her that didn’t appear to be injured. Hesitating only briefly, she threaded their fingers together and gave her best friend a reassuring squeeze._

_A tiny choked sound caught in Catra’s throat, just loud enough for Adora to hear. Extricating her hand from Adora’s grip, she said, “I need to go.”_

_“What? Why?”_

_“I left something in the locker room,” she muttered, avoiding Adora’s gaze as she stood._

_“I’ll go with you.” Adora could hear the desperation in her own voice. It wasn’t an offer, it was a plea. Catra shook her head and she resorted to flat out begging. “Catra, please talk to me.”_

_Catra’s arms and tail wrapped around herself like they always did when she was uncomfortable. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she mumbled. “I’m fine.”_

_Adora watched with dismay as Catra exited the barracks without looking back. With no one there to distract her or otherwise disrupt her mental spiral, her brain jumped into overdrive again. It analyzed every detail to death in a desperate search for answers. Catra’s injuries, her distant behavior, her reactions to being touched, what happened in the locker room the day before she was sent away. What happened in the locker room._

_The realization hit Adora square in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. Catra didn’t feel the same way. Catra didn’t feel the same way, and now Adora had gone and ruined their friendship. That’s why she was acting weird, because Adora was making her uncomfortable, not because of whatever the seniors did to her. Adora kissed her when she didn’t want it. Adora was smothering her and not taking a hint. Adora was causing this rift between them. It was all her fault._

“Look, I know it’s hard, but let’s start with something simple, okay?” Bow’s voice pulls Adora back to the moment and she meets his kind eyes. Cupping her face with one hand, he tells her, “Adora matters.” Adora snorts, eyes falling automatically, but Bow tips her chin up. Holding her gaze, he insists, “I mean it. You matter. Not what you do, not who you become when you lift that sword. You.”

Her eyes suddenly sting with emotion she didn’t realize she had on the subject. “Thank you,” she whispers around the lump in her throat.

His sweet smile could light up the whole world. “There’s tons of people here to help. All the princesses, the Queen, Castaspella. She-Ra doesn’t have to do everything on her own. So let’s try something for a few days, okay?” Adora humors him with a nod. “Try just being Adora.”

A nervous chuckle echoes out of her throat. “I don’t know how to just be Adora.”

Bow pokes her shoulder with a good-natured smirk. “You haven’t even been She-Ra for two months.”

“I know, I just…” Adora sighs, knee bouncing as fast as her thoughts. “Before that, I was a soldier. I trained for my cause. I looked out for- for my friends. I don’t know what to do if I don’t have any responsibility.”

“You need to be needed,” Glimmer pipes up quietly from behind her. Adora turns and finds Glimmer’s expression both empathetic and determined. “I get that,” she tells her with a knowing nod. Her forehead creases in thought and her teeth play at the inside of her lip. Adora has to look away. Catra does that as well. “Look, maybe this is a lot to worry about at once,” Glimmer says, reclaiming her attention, “but you really need to cut the shit about everything being your fault. I’m not just talking about Catra. You always take everything on, make it your responsibility. The stress is going to kill you one day.”

“But it’s…” Adora frowns. “It’s how I deal with things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess…” Brow furrowing, she muses, “If something is my fault, I had control over it. It’s better to think I failed than to think bad things just happen.” Her mouth twitches, eyes falling to her lap. “It’s better to be a failure than to be powerless.”

Glimmer’s chuckle makes her look up with a frown, but the girl’s smile isn’t derisive in the slightest. “Adora, bad things happen. You’re not a god. You don’t control the forces of the universe.” Adora sighs and starts to run an anxious hand through her hair, hisses as the movement reminds her of her injury. Glimmer clasps her hand in both of hers, stilling her restless fingers. “We’re going to work through this together, okay? You’ll help again when you can. And in the meantime, please stop blaming yourself. This is not your fault.”

Adora takes a deep breath, sees the phrase in her mind, forces it through her lips. “It’s not my fault.” The words sound strange rolling off her tongue, stilted and contrived. That phrase, that sentiment, it’s not in Adora’s vocabulary. Saying it feels wrong in so many ways.

Glimmer doesn’t seem to agree, based on her smile and the way she grips Adora’s hand tighter. “Good! Just practice saying that.”

“It’ll get easier, I promise,” says Bow, squeezing her shoulder approvingly.

“Not my fault,” Adora repeats, testing that theory. “Not my fault. Not my fault.”

Maybe if she says it enough times, she’ll be able to believe it one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. It might be a while before I update again but feel free to come scream at me in the comments or on Tumblr if you want to talk Catradora feels and/or fucked up childhoods.


	4. Discipline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this chapter is very dark and unsettling, full of potentially triggering material. If you've made it this far into the story you are probably expecting that anyway, though, and honestly it's a really important chapter in terms of exploring the headspace of child abuse survivors. It also ties a lot into the previous chapters (especially ch. 3), so if you have the time they may be worth a reread to get the full context.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for a fuckton of gaslighting and some graphic depictions of violence, including an assault on a teenaged minor. That’s in flashback form, so if you want to avoid it you can skip the long italicized section. You’ll miss some details that tie into other chapters but not so much that the story will not make sense. I’ll leave a full spoilery warning in the end notes for anyone who needs more information to decide if they can read it.

Lord Hordak’s throne room is not the terrifying place it once was. Strolling in with her head held high is very different from being dragged in with her tail between her legs. Catra’s heart is beating calmly in her chest, not pounding in her throat. She actually feels relaxed as she ascends the stairs to the throne and bows at the hip. “Lord Hordak.”

“Force Captain Catra,” he greets her in a neutral tone. “Do you have an update for me on your plans for the next attack on Bright Moon?”

Catra can’t help breaking into a grin. “Good news, sir. Entrapta has determined that the woods will need up to six months to fully regenerate, and they shouldn’t be a viable defense for at least four.” Stepping closer, she adds, “But if it’s okay with you, I’d like to attack again sooner, before they can rebuild their defenses and repair the castle. I’d rather not start from scratch.”

Brow furrowing, Hordak rubs his chin. “They’ll be on high alert for some time, expecting another attack. According to our scouts, the other princesses haven’t left yet, and a sorceress from Mystacor has joined them as well.”

“So we should prepare to attack as soon as the reinforcements thin out,” reasons Catra. “The longer we wait, the longer we give them to prepare a defense.”

“I agree it’s better to attack before they can fully rebuild, but we don’t want to rush and risk a second defeat,” says Hordak. “We attacked too quickly last time, without enough in the way of backup plans.” Catra frowns, and he raises an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

“No, my lord.” When his expression doesn’t change, she shuffles under his gaze and admits, “Shadow Weaver said the same thing, about the battle.”

Hordak gives her a knowing nod. “She’s the other reason I’ve called you here. We need to decide what to do with her. She can be a very hostile, vengeful individual when she feels she’s been wronged.”

“You don’t say,” deadpans Catra. Hordak merely blinks, showing no signs of amusement, and she shifts her weight again. “So... you want to kill her?”

“It’s an open question,” Hordak tells her, sitting back in his throne. “I could just as easily leave her in isolation until she goes mad. But the fact is, I see no point in keeping her alive. Could she ever be of any more use to us? If we bring her to Bright Moon, ask her to counter whatever the other sorceress is doing, we can’t be certain she won’t turn against us the second we free her.”

Catra nods her agreement. “I think we can be certain she will.”

“Yes, indeed. We’ll never be able to trust her again. With that in mind, it seems prolonging her life is a waste of rations.”

“You could always let her starve to death,” snorts Catra. Hordak’s eyes narrow as he peers closely at her, and she backtracks, “It was a joke.”

“Was it?” he asks. “I know you have reason to enjoy Shadow Weaver’s suffering. I know you paid her a visit the other day.”

Catra bristles. “Does that bother you? I never thought you were one to interfere with your second-in-command’s disciplinary tactics.” She flinches at the bitterness in her own tone. That’s enough attitude to earn her a trip to the prison, if Shadow Weaver was in one of her moods. Thankfully, Hordak only chuckles.

Standing from his throne, he tells her, “That resentment will take you places, Catra.” He rests a hand on her shoulder, gives it the lightest shake of affection. Catra wills herself not to pull away. “I knew I was right to promote you. People like Adora and Shadow Weaver, they don’t understand people like us. They were given everything on a silver platter, they don’t know what it’s like to be overlooked.” Catra’s surprise must be evident, because he smirks and asks, “What, did you think I was always Lord Hordak?”

She shrugs, unable to hold his gaze in such close proximity. “I never really thought about it, sir.”

“A tale for another day, perhaps.” He steps back, taking a moment to look her over. “It’s a shame Shadow Weaver never saw your potential, Catra. You have what it takes to be a great leader. Ruthless, committed to order.”

Catra’s barely joking at all when she asks, “Was Shadow Weaver not ruthless enough for you?”

“Ruthlessness is not the same as cruelty. She was wasteful. I value pragmatism.” Eyes taking on a reflective quality, he continues, “You’re young, still coming into your own as a leader, so let me give you some advice. Anger and resentment can be very motivating. They can drive us to be better, rise above our humble beginnings, prove our doubters wrong. They can also be blinding. Emotion is a double-edged sword.” His head tilts slightly. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Anger can be very effective when it’s controlled. If you let it control you, you’ll lose your way. You must be disciplined.” As he returns to his throne, Catra frowns for the moment his back is turned. Does everyone think she’s ruled by her emotions? Is she ruled by her emotions? She doesn’t like to think so. “Now,” Hordak’s voice pulls her eyes back up, “do you have an opinion on what to do with the sorceress?”

Catra blinks, purging any emotion from her face and voice. “I agree with your assessment. No need to be wasteful.”

A hint of a smile turns one corner of Hordak’s mouth. “Very well, Force Captain Catra. You will go collect her immediately, bring her here to me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

***

Unlike the throne room, the prison is not a place in which Catra is capable of relaxing. Not even when she’s marching in with two guards at her beck and call, fully in charge of the situation. The rush of power can’t mask the bad memories, can’t give this place the illusion of being anything other than what it is. A place where she was helpless. A place where she suffered. The air is stale and cold as ever. It reeks of loneliness and misery.

The fact that she has to talk to Shadow Weaver again does nothing to soothe the hum of nervous energy simmering under her skin. Especially now with nothing to lose, that bitch is sure to go down swinging, cause as much damage as she can on her way out of this world. Now’s not a good time to be in her sights. Not that there ever was.

Punching codes into the pad outside Shadow Weaver’s cell, Catra disables the sight shield. Her insides squirm, a pang of guilt resounding in her chest when it fades and reveals Shadow Weaver lying on her stomach. Her back stings at the very sight and she scowls at the sensation, cursing this compulsion she feels to sympathize with Shadow Weaver whenever she sees her in discomfort. She hoped defeating Shadow Weaver would release her hold on her, but apparently not. And why the fuck does she feel guilty, anyway? Shadow Weaver deserved it, there’s no question about that.

Deactivating the force field long enough to pass through, Catra enters without speaking. She just crosses her arms and sets her jaw as Shadow Weaver turns her head. A predatory smile crosses Shadow Weaver’s face at the sight of her favorite target, and Catra barely resists the urge to flee. Her inner four year-old screams at her to shrink into the corner and shield her head with her arms, to say she’s sorry without even knowing what she’s sorry for. But Catra isn’t a snivelling little weakling anymore. She doesn’t apologize, and she certainly doesn’t cower.

Sitting up with hardly a wince, Shadow Weaver eyes the guards waiting outside. “Brought friends this time?”

“They’re your escort,” Catra informs her. “Hordak’s sentenced you to death for treason.”

“Treason?” Shadow Weaver clutches her chest, looking downright offended. “Forgive me for trying to spare him a terrible mistake. What possessed that man to entrust our most valuable asset to a couple of harebrained princesses and a reckless, incompetent beast is beyond me.”

Catra’s eyes narrow dangerously. “If I ever gave you this much lip, I wouldn’t have had any skin left to speak of. Back off, Shadow Weaver. I am not in the mood.”

“You’re not here to talk?” she asks with an irritating level of faux sweetness.

“No, I’m here to take you to your execution. Weren’t you listening?” Catra flashes the pair of handcuffs in her grip. “Hands,” she orders. When her prisoner only cocks her head, she fingers the stun gun on her belt. “Now, Weaver.”

Shadow Weaver grins but relents. “I suppose you’re feeling very proud of yourself,” she remarks as Catra closes in. “That’s why you’re here, right? To rub in your victory one last time?”

“I’m here because Hordak sent me,” Catra says flatly, going to work on the first cuff. “Trust me, I’d be just as happy to never see your ugly face again.”

“Now now,” Shadow Weaver chides her, “that’s no way to speak to the woman who raised you.”

Catra cinches the metal tighter than necessary, pinching Shadow Weaver’s sickly gray skin and making it go white. “I’ll speak to you however the fuck I want. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not in charge here, old lady.”

As Catra pulls both hands behind her back, Shadow Weaver asks, “Do you think this will make you feel better? Killing a person doesn’t undo their life’s work.”

Securing the second cuff, Catra snorts. “So first I’m the weakest cadet you’ve ever raised, and now I’m your life’s work?”

“Part of it, indeed,” says Shadow Weaver. “It’s not a contradiction. I put a lot of effort into raising you, and I’m proud of that, even if the results were extremely dissatisfactory.”

“Effort?” balks Catra. Stepping back, she squints incredulously into Shadow Weaver’s bloodshot eyes. “How much effort does it take to beat a child when they don’t do exactly what you want, rather than taking the time to explain what you do want? To find out if maybe they just don’t understand and aren’t trying to be bad?”

“You never had to _try_ to be bad, Catra. It’s in your nature. But you blatantly disobeyed rules that I know for a fact you knew. You talked back to your commanding officer with regularity. You can’t pretend you tried to be good.” Catra glares at her but can’t come up with a quick retort. Shadow Weaver is right about at least some of that. The woman in question smiles at the small victory and continues, “You needed to learn how to behave as a child, if you were to avoid much worse consequences for the same infractions as an adult. I always told you, it was for your own good.”

Catra’s arms cross over her chest defensively as she glowers at the floor. “Yeah, I remember.”

“And you always will. I raised you, Catra, and killing me won’t change that. Revenge does nothing to alter the past.”

“This isn’t about revenge,” scoffs Catra. “If it was, I’d keep you alive so I could starve and torture you.”

Her eyebrows arch. “Torture? Is that what you think I did to you?” Catra’s eyes flick away and Shadow Weaver chuckles, shaking her head. “So dramatic.”

“What would you call it?” Catra demands through a clenched jaw.

“Discipline, of course. Guidance.” Catra opens her mouth to respond, but Shadow Weaver cuts her off. “You can’t deny you learned something from my methods. You learned to keep your mouth shut, on occasion. You learned to keep your filthy paws off of Adora.”

Catra’s eyes narrow with a hiss. “Maybe you should have disciplined that traitor to keep her filthy lips off of me. I never asked for it.”

Shadow Weaver’s sick smile makes her gut flip. “And I made sure you never did.”

_Fisting the sheets of the cot in her cell, Catra twisted the fabric until it threatened to rip. She swallowed the whimper trying to climb out of her throat, clenching her teeth until the burning sensation faded. The sting that followed was bearable, and tempered by the lingering tingle of Adora’s lips on hers. Even then, remembering made her smile. Adora liked her. Shadow Weaver could do whatever she wanted to her, nothing could change that._

_Nails dug into the flaming skin of her shoulders, making her flinch and hiss, grounding her in the moment she wished to escape. “You’re not good enough for her,” Shadow Weaver declared. “You’ll only drag her down, like you’ve been doing your whole sorry life. You’ll disappoint her. That’s all you’re good for.”_

_Catra had been here countless times before. On her knees at Shadow Weaver’s feet, defenseless against her blows and her searing words. She was so used to the torrent of insults she could almost let them roll off her back by now. Almost. But these words cut deeper than usual, because Adora was Adora. And because deep down, Catra feared that Shadow Weaver was right. Squeezing her eyes shut, she braced herself in preparation for the next onslaught of pain, whatever form it came in._

_What she wasn’t prepared for was the belt that suddenly cinched around her neck. Quick as Catra might be, she was caught off guard. Her hands flew to the improvised noose, the claws she’d been fighting to keep retracted now shooting out. She struggled to work them under the tightening leather, to snap it before it choked her out, but it was already too tight. If she tried to rip it now, she’d probably end up slashing her own throat._

_“What did I tell you would happen if you jeopardized her future?” With that, Shadow Weaver grabbed a fistful of Catra’s hair and shoved her face into the mattress. Panic shot through Catra and she struggled wildly, tail thrashing about as she fought for air. Shadow Weaver was trying to kill her. That’s what she’d said all those years ago, that she’d dispose of her. Those words ringing in her ears, Catra dug her claws into Shadow Weaver’s wrists in sheer desperation, but it had no effect. Her grip didn’t loosen, and Catra didn’t even get the satisfaction of hearing her cry out in pain. The pressure building in her chest grew unbearable and she felt her consciousness fading, the fight going out of her flailing limbs. As she slipped away, her last thought was that she wished she’d kissed Adora back._

_Suddenly Shadow Weaver yanked her head back up, loosening the belt just enough for her to breathe. Catra gasped in sweet oxygen, tears of relief seeping out of her eyes. Before Shadow Weaver could add crying to the list of things to punish her for, she quickly swiped them away, bringing her hand to her mouth as she feigned a haggard cough. It got cut off as the belt abruptly tightened again. Bending down, Shadow Weaver hissed an ultimatum into her ear. “Consider this your final warning. If anything like this happens again, I’ll transfer you to another squadron, and I’ll make sure you never see Adora again. Do you understand?” Catra’s eyes bulged. She thought Shadow Weaver was about to threaten her with death, but no, she’d threatened her with something much worse. Catra nodded hard and fast._

_Still with a grip on Catra’s hair, Shadow Weaver cranked her neck to the side and brought one of her own gouged, bloody wrists into Catra’s field of view. “You’ll pay for this, too. I thought I’d trained you to keep your destructive impulses in check, but I should have known better. You’re a stupid creature who never learns her lesson.”_

_Those words made Catra’s face fall, draining all the adrenaline lingering in her blood from the fight. She’d thought it was finally over, thought she could go back to her bunk now and curl up with her face buried in the blue blanket that smelled of her and Adora, quietly release her tears. She was so exhausted and her skin was so raw that she almost said she was sorry and she didn’t mean to. But she was too proud for that. Besides, she wasn’t sorry, and Shadow Weaver deserved it anyway. Catra could smell her own blood in the air that Shadow Weaver had drawn with her nails, but she was nothing if not a hypocrite. Feeling the sorceress float back a few feet behind her, her gut tightened in anticipation._

_“Your pants, Catra.”_

_Catra sighed._

Throat swelling painfully, Catra squeezes her eyes shut in concentration, trying and failing to block out the memory. Even once she gets the images to fade, she can still hear everything. Feel everything. She can barely keep her voice from cracking as she says, “That wasn’t fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Shadow Weaver states flatly. “Fact is, it was far more effective to let Adora believe her advances were unwanted than it would have been to punish her for her deviant desires. It would have only deepened them, made her want you more. Teenagers will be teenagers.”

Eyes widening as she absorbs this, Catra shakes her head in disbelief. “In case no one’s ever told you, you’re a terrible person.”

“At least I’m a person,” Shadow Weaver taunts her.

“Right,” chuckles Catra. “I’m the animal because I have a tail, but getting off on torturing children and fucking with people’s lives doesn’t make you an animal?”

“You think I enjoyed the things I had to do to keep you in line?” Shadow Weaver asks with a hand on her heart, sounding almost hurt. “I would have preferred you were well-behaved. Disciplining you took a lot of time and energy I would have rather spent elsewhere.”

Catra snorts. “You’re full of shit. You love making people suffer. Even Hordak said you’re cruel.”

“Lord Hordak does not have to deal with a flock of misbehaving children and teenagers all the time. He lets his second-in-command oversee day-to-day operations, including discipline.” Her eyes bore deep into Catra’s with a chilling promise. “Soon you’ll understand why I had to do the things I did to you. The things I did _for_ you.”

Fighting off a slight dizzy feeling, Catra shakes her head sharply. “I will never be like you.”

Tongue clicking, Shadow Weaver shakes her head in amusement. “Oh, Catra. So young, so foolish. So naive.” Meeting Catra’s eyes again, she assures her, “If you somehow manage to last in this position, you will soon realize what it takes to make children learn.” She cocks her head, something like pity in her expression. “You’re not ready for this. You’re still a child yourself.”

Catra chuckles to cover her discomfort. “Well, you were supposed to be my mentor. Any last words of advice?”

Shadow Weaver leans in, and Catra’s breath catches before she even says a word. She knows this woman’s body language intimately. On her deathbed, Shadow Weaver is going in for the kill one last time. Smiling sweetly, she tells her, “Be a good kitty for your new master, Catra. Maybe this one won’t leave you.”

That blow knocks the wind out of Catra’s chest, keeping her from breathing even as it swells with anger. A hot buzzing sensation fills her head, overwhelming her senses. The next thing she knows, she’s staring in shock at four deep gashes across her prisoner’s face. With blood dripping down her cheeks and over her lips, Shadow Weaver’s triumphant laugh comes off rather insane. “Animal. Always have been, always will be.”

Though it’s difficult to do when she’s angry, Catra retracts her claws with an unconscious growl. The noise procures an incredibly smug look from Shadow Weaver, one that makes Catra curse her own nature. She can’t stand one more second with this woman, but she won’t let her have the last word. “See you in the throne room.”

Catra stops just long enough to instruct the guards to escort Shadow Weaver on their own before bolting from the scene in as dignified a manner as she can manage. Knowing she has a head start, she takes a detour through some quieter areas of the Fright Zone. The attempt to clear her head and find some peace is less than effective. Even when she manages to push Shadow Weaver’s hateful remarks from her head for a moment, that leaves her to think about Adora. Really think about what happened between them, and what happened after.

Catra didn’t get to go back to the barracks for days. Days of beatings, in case she didn’t get the message the first time. Adora was off-limits. Once she did go back, part of her wished she hadn’t. It was a whole other kind of torture, even more unbearable. She wanted nothing more than to brush lips with Adora again, to hold her hand, to curl up in her arms and lose herself in her warmth and comforting scent. The need to feel close to Adora was overwhelming, and having to hold back when she knew Adora felt it too only made it worse. Sure, she could still get away with some affection, but she could never really enjoy it again, not knowing how carefully she had to tread. If she really gave into it, she could lose control. And if she lost control, let things escalate, she would lose Adora.

But she wanted things to escalate. She wanted it, wanted Adora, so fucking bad. Catra had snuck around the Fright Zone at night enough to know what the older cadets did. She almost wished she didn’t know what the buzzing in her chest and heat in her stomach meant. It would have been easier. She wouldn’t have had this yearning to entangle limbs with Adora under their blanket, feel her skin hot against her own, hear her ragged breathing in her ear. More than anything, Catra wanted to know what Adora really _felt_ like under her uniform. How her soft skin stretched taut over hard muscle would feel. How it would taste, tinged with her sweat. Catra craved this knowledge beyond measure. But she couldn’t let Adora know what she wanted, how she felt. She couldn’t.

As always, Adora was easy to keep in the dark, about everything. She didn’t even know Catra had been punished, let alone what for. Shadow Weaver had fed the squadron some lie about Catra getting extra training to explain her extended absence. It was a convenient excuse for the shape she came back in. Exhausted, limping and listless, covered in bruises. How quiet and distant she was hurt Adora, Catra knew that. But she also knew that telling Adora what had really happened would be worse. Adora wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt, and no doubt her protective instincts would kick in and make her say or do something that would get Catra in even more trouble. It was better to let Adora believe she wanted space. It was better…

Catra stops in her tracks, Shadow Weaver’s words echoing in her ears. _“It was far more effective to let Adora believe her advances were unwanted than it would have been to punish her for her deviant desires.”_ Head spinning, Catra grabs the nearest wall as the implications fully dawn on her. Shadow Weaver knew. Shadow Weaver knew how Catra would react, and how Adora would react to that. She played them. She let Catra suffer self-imposed isolation and Adora suffer what felt like rejection just to keep them apart. And for what?

Catra swallows the painful lump growing in her throat. Is wanting her really that deviant? If it is, who could ever want her? Love her? For all she knows, she’s the last of her kind. The only place she ever felt she belonged was with Adora. That was the only place she could forget the world sees her as a freak, the only place she ever felt anything resembling love. Obviously it wasn’t love, though. Adora made that clear when she left her behind without a second thought.

The sting in her eyes brings Catra back to her senses. She blinks back her tears with a growl, swipes the fallen ones from her cheeks. Crying about love is unbefitting of anyone in the Horde, let alone such a high-ranking officer. Powering ahead before she can get lost in her own thoughts again, she smacks herself in the face. Orders herself to get it together.

When Catra arrives at the throne room, a jumble of emotions are bouncing around in her chest, fighting for dominance. Anger seems to be winning out, as is often the case with her. Anger at Shadow Weaver for what she pulled on them and for the horrible things she said to her. Anger at Adora for being so gullible and for leaving her alone with that monster. And most of all, anger at herself for doing exactly what Shadow Weaver wanted, playing right into her hands.

“Catra!” Eyes narrowing as they flick up, Catra finds Scorpia waving from further into the room, wearing far too happy an expression for such an occasion. Despite her irritation, Catra makes her way over, noting how sparse their company is. Only the Force Captains are present. That makes sense. There’s no need to cause a potential ruckus by making this a public display, but those in power need to know what will happen to them if they dare rebel. Bouncing on her toes, Scorpia rushes Catra when she gets close and tries to pull her into a hug. Catra easily dodges her bulky but slow arms, but Scorpia’s enthusiasm doesn’t fade. “I was worried about you!”

Tail flicking behind her, Catra scowls up at Scorpia’s kind face. The other Force Captains are looking on in amusement, and Catra will not go back to being the laughingstock of the Horde. Putting on her lowest and most authoritative voice, she booms, “Calm yourself, Force Captain Scorpia.”

For a second Scorpia looks surprised and maybe even a little scared, but that expression quickly dissolves into sheepishness. “I’m sorry, boss. You’ve just been acting weird the last couple days.” Though Catra would rather Scorpia not bring this up in front of a bunch of her subordinates, she can’t deny it’s true. The guilt over her revelation regarding Scorpia and Entrapta made her withdraw even further from them, refrain from spending time in Entrapta’s lab even though she found herself oddly craving their company. And now she feels guilty for that, for making them feel neglected. Apparently she just can’t get enough of that emotion today.

Catra’s attention is pulled back to Scorpia when she leans in and attempts to whisper, “What are we doing here?” Unfortunately, subtlety is not something Scorpia can even remotely pull off, and her voice comes out as a loud hiss.

Rolling her eyes, Catra addresses everyone, since they definitely all heard anyway. “Shadow Weaver’s been sentenced to death.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Scorpia’s already pale skin goes paler as the others break into muffled murmurs behind her. Her voice is genuinely quiet as she asks, “We have to watch?”

The display of vulnerability breaks something inside of Catra, but she doesn’t let it show. She keeps her voice flat as she remarks, “I assume that’s why you’re here.”

Scorpia nods, brow furrowed as her eyes drop to the floor. Despite her attempts to remain impassive, Catra finds herself putting a comforting hand on Scorpia’s arm, just above the top of her pincer. The small gesture makes Scorpia look up and give her an uncharacteristically shy smile, but thankfully she doesn’t take it as her cue to try to hold Catra’s hand or anything gross like that.

Within minutes, Lord Hordak emerges from the shadows, silencing the room with his very presence. Everyone bows and stands at attention as he makes his way toward the cluster of officers. Stopping in front of Catra, he gives her a respectful nod. “Force Captain. Was the prisoner any trouble?”

Catra shrugs. “No more than usual, my lord.”

Hordak nods as though this is acceptable, perhaps expected. Turning back to the shadows, he calls, “Bring her out!”

The guards flanking Shadow Weaver march her into the light, a bag obscuring her face. Catra’s not sure why they would bother with that, it’s not like she doesn’t know where they were going. Maybe it’s just for effect. That theory gains more credence when the guards force the prisoner to her knees and one of them rips off the bag with a dramatic flourish. Sounds of shock fill the air, bringing a smug smile to Catra’s face. Apparently none of the Force Captains have seen Shadow Weaver’s deformed face before. It’s only when Catra feels several sets of eyes flashing her way that she realizes they’re reacting at least in part to the gashes slicing across Shadow Weaver’s cheek.

Shrinking in embarrassment, Catra averts her eyes from the others, where they unfortunately meet the irritated gaze of Lord Hordak. “What?” she chirps, straightening up and crossing her arms. “I was provoked.”

“I’m sure you were,” he says dryly. “What did I say about discipline, Force Captain?” Catra’s head and eyes fall in shame, but thankfully he leaves it at that. As two more guards bring out a bench and an axe, Hordak steps forward and launches into a speech about how Shadow Weaver betrayed not only him, but the very values of the Horde. Catra doesn’t hear much of it. All she can focus on is Shadow Weaver’s bloodied face. Her eyes are hard and chin raised, but Catra’s keen eyesight picks up on the tiniest quiver in her lip. Shadow Weaver is… scared.

Well, why wouldn’t she be scared? Even the bravest souls fear death, when they have time to see it coming. Even the cruelest souls blindly crave mercy at the end. Once again, Catra finds herself juggling conflicting emotions. Conflicting thoughts. Part of her wants that woman dead right now, before she can do anything else to hurt her. Part of her would rather watch her suffer after everything she put her through. But another part of her, an unfortunately strong and immutable one, can’t help feeling sympathy for a scared helpless creature, even if that creature deserves this and much worse.

Catra is no animal. She is, perhaps, too human for her own good.

Finishing up his diatribe, Hordak turns to Shadow Weaver. “Any last words?”

Shadow Weaver speaks to Hordak, but she’s looking right at Catra as she warns him, “You’ve made a grave mistake, my lord. Soon you will see that.” An ironic chuckle parts Catra’s lips. That’s so very Shadow Weaver. Doubting and disparaging Catra with her final breaths. It’s fitting. Catra would expect nothing less. It still hurts.

Catra doesn’t look away. She stubbornly holds Shadow Weaver’s gaze even as two of the guards position her shoulders on the bench and one brandishes the axe. Shadow Weaver doesn’t blink, doesn’t waste one precious instant of eyesight. They are locked in one final battle of wills, neither yielding an inch. In her peripheral vision, Catra sees the axe go up, and her heart jumps as a sense of dread floods her body. Hoping it doesn’t show on her face, she fights the urge to swallow at the sudden ache in her throat. She gives her mentor, her abuser, her parental figure a final nod of goodbye as the axe falls.

The crack of the axe splintering wood makes her finally turn her face. But she doesn’t need to see any more. She hears the collective gasp of the Force Captains. She hears the head hit the floor and roll their way. She hears a strangled whimper trying to escape her own throat.

Shadow Weaver was right, once again. One last thing for her to be proud of, from beyond the grave. Catra doesn’t feel better. Catra feels sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MM WHATCHA SAYYYY
> 
> EDIT: Changed Catra’s title back to Force Captain to align with season 2
> 
> **Content warning for graphic beheading, graphic strangulation/suffocation, and (very strongly) implied beating with a belt.


	5. Dislikeable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, who’s ready for a less heavy chapter after that insanely dark one? I sure am! I'm at ClexaCon but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging too long on that note, so here's a heartwarming chapter for your souls.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for bullying, victim blaming, and emotional and physical child abuse.
> 
> (But I swear, it's really not that dark overall. Just parts of it.)

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Catra stumbles out into the hall, gladly escaping her quarters after another night filled with terrors. She’d thought maybe the nightmares of Shadow Weaver would stop now that she’s dead, but they’ve been decidedly worse the last few nights. Shadow Weaver is haunting her, perhaps literally. Catra never believed in ghosts before, but the air in this hallway has an ominous chill and the fur on her neck is standing on end. Hugging her arms tighter around her middle, she speeds up as much as she can without looking like some kind of coward.

Unsure where she’s going other than _away_ , Catra veers toward Entrapta’s lab. She doesn’t technically have any new orders for her or Scorpia, but she can always get an update on whatever Entrapta’s working on these days. She frequently loses track.

When the door whooshes open, Entrapta’s head snaps Catra’s way and she flips up her mask, showcasing a massive grin. “Catra!” Spinning over on her rolling stool, she reaches out with her hair and yanks Catra into the lab. “I have so much to show you! This medic mini bot has such potential to improve our operations in the field! It’s going to find and repair damaged and malfunctioning bots and return them to action, eliminating the need for trips to the Fright Zone! Melding my control systems with the technology of the Horde is always tricky, but I’m optimistic! I mean there was a tiny explosion but the second try went much better! Oh, and Scorpia brought me tiny food!” she finishes with a flourish, pointing excitedly at the platter of miniature cupcakes on her desk.

Catra can’t help staring in amazement. She’s not sure Entrapta took a single breath during that entire rant. Her eyes flick to Scorpia as the hulking woman shrugs and scratches the back of her neck, her face flushing to match her red exterior. “It’s not a big deal. Just wanted to make you feel welcome.” Her mouth twitches in a small, sympathetic smile. “I know what it’s like to feel like an outsider.”

Entrapta beams. “Thanks, Scorpia! Cut up ration bars can only do so much to feed my creativity!”

Snorting, Scorpia waves her off. “Please, like you ever stop working long enough to eat.”

“I could, with the right motivation,” says Entrapta, shooting Scorpia a cheeky grin. Scorpia somehow goes even redder, and Catra might laugh were it not for the tightness in her chest. She has to avert her eyes at the sound of Entrapta’s triumphant giggles.

Catra doesn’t miss Adora, definitely not, but she does miss their easy, teasing banter. The comfort level they had with each other. Catra’s never been able to connect with anyone else so easily. And here these two are practically best friends after like a week of Entrapta living in the Fright Zone. But of course they are. They’re both princesses.

“Well… well, good,” stammers Scorpia. “You need to take better care of yourself. Both of you do.” As her eyes land on Catra, her face falls. “Catra, you okay?”

Catra must look as miserable as she feels. Wiping her face of emotion, she shrugs indifferently. “I’m fine.”

Scorpia’s head tilts. “Aw, what’s wrong, kitty?”

Catra’s eyes narrow with a guttural hiss. “What did you say to me?”

Even Adora wasn’t allowed to call her kitty, at least not in front of other people. Catra can’t even count the number of times she got cornered in the hallways by kids with taunting expressions and grabby hands going, "Here kitty, kitty…” Scorpia got away with it the first time they met because Catra was more angry with Shadow Weaver at the time, too preoccupied to remark on the demeaning nickname. This time, she’s getting a piece of Catra’s mind.

Catra’s taking a menacing step toward Scorpia when Entrapta pops up between them, wearing an inquisitive expression. “You seem to be angered by references to your species, Catra. Are you uncomfortable being the only Magicat in the Horde?”

That’s another reason why these two get along so well. They’re both incredibly fucking annoying. Claws digging into her palms, Catra grits her teeth and growls, “Entrapta, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to set your pigtails on fire and send Emily to the scrapyard.”

“Catra,” Scorpia says immediately. Catra’s stomach turns even before she meets her gently scolding gaze. The disappointment in her tone is worse than anger ever could be. She gets her share of anger, too, when Emily makes a squeak of protest from the corner and raises one of her robotic arms in a vaguely threatening gesture.

But the worst, the absolute worst is the shock on Entrapta’s face. She looks like she’s been slapped. “I’m sorry. I- I just wanted to understand why you’re mad at Scorpia. She’s only trying to be your friend.” Her eyes fall, and her voice is almost a whisper when she says, “I wasn’t trying to annoy you.”

Catra squirms, averting her eyes. The guilt is back, and the fear. The fear that everything Shadow Weaver ever said about her was true.

_“Making friends as always, I see.”_

_Catra snivelled as quietly as possible, brushing tears from her bruised cheekbone while Shadow Weaver’s back was turned. Her other hand was busy holding back the stream of blood from her nose. The injuries hurt her pride more than her body. They made her look weak. Really, she could’ve easily won the fight if she’d used her claws, but she’d already made that mistake once. It made no difference to Shadow Weaver if she was defending herself, clawing another person was far worse than scratching inanimate objects. Sitting down had hurt for days afterwards._

_Her assailant, an older boy, had been dismissed a moment ago with barely a slap on the wrist. Apparently pulling another cadet’s tail and trying to pick her up by the scruff of her neck was not enough to warrant much in the way of disciplinary action. Now Catra was alone with Shadow Weaver, and her gut was churning with anxiety. She did her best not to tremble as the sorceress floated closer, something concealed in her hands._

_When Shadow Weaver started to extend a hand toward her, Catra couldn’t help but recoil. But all she was holding was a handkerchief that she roughly shoved against Catra’s bleeding nose. “Hold that there.”_

_Catra blinked dumbly and obeyed, surprised by the kind gesture (or kind by Shadow Weaver standards, anyway). “Thank you.”_

_“Yes, you should be grateful,” snapped Shadow Weaver, and Catra tensed again. “You don’t deserve any help. What did you think was going to happen?”_

_“He started it! I didn’t_ do _anything!”_

_“Not this time, perhaps. But there’s a reason this happens, you know. Do you realize how tiring you are to be around? You have a bad temper, you’re disruptive, impatient. You don’t even try to get along with others.”_

_“That’s not true,” Catra protested weakly. That earned her a vicious backhanded slap that caught the previously uninjured side of her face. Catra’s lip snagged on her fang and blood seeped onto her tongue. The shock and pain made her eyes sting but she willed the tears not to fall._

_“Don’t contradict me, child. You’re getting on my last nerve,” warned Shadow Weaver. Fighting the urge to argue more, Catra stared down at her feet. A trip to the prison was the last thing she needed at that point. “Do you really expect the other cadets to be kind to someone so dislikeable? Even Adora doesn’t want to be friends with you. She just feels sorry for you.”_

_Catra’s lip quivered and more tears welled in her eyes. This time, she couldn’t keep them from spilling out. Shadow Weaver scoffed, the white eyes of her mask narrowing in disgust. “Stop crying. You’re too old for that nonsense. Do you see Adora crying when she has a bad day?” Yes, actually, but Catra wasn’t about to rat out her best friend. She shook her head, but that wasn’t good enough for Shadow Weaver. “I can’t hear you.”_

_Catra swallowed the sob lodged in her throat. “No, Shadow Weaver.”_

_Shaking her head, Shadow Weaver heaved a sigh laden with disappointment. “I don’t even know why I bother. You’ll never amount to anything.” Turning to her cauldron, she waved a hand to dismiss Catra. “Get out of my sight.”_

Catra hates apologizing. It reminds her of the humiliation of forced apologies. The panic of desperate apologies, feeble attempts to avoid punishment. It reminds her of cowering under Shadow Weaver’s raised hand. But she can do it, if it will keep Entrapta on her side. And if it will make the guilt go away.

Lifting Entrapta’s face with a gentle claw under her chin, Catra does her best to convey her sincerity. “Sorry, Entrapta. And Emily,” she adds with a quick glance to the robot. “I didn’t really mean that.” Catching Entrapta’s eye again, she twitches her mouth slightly and admits, “And yeah. It’s not fun, being the only one.”

“It must’ve been really lonely,” murmurs Scorpia.

Catra shrugs this off before she can think too much about it. “It was okay. I had Adora.” The past tense in her statements makes her frown. Was. Had. 

“It’s okay,” says Entrapta, squeezing one of Catra’s arms with a tendril of hair. “I know I ask insensitive questions sometimes. I’m sorry too, if I hurt your feelings.”

“Don’t worry about it,” mutters Catra, eyes downcast. She notices Entrapta moving behind her, but assumes she’s just going back to her desk until she feels Entrapta’s gloved hands on her shoulders. The unexpected contact makes them clench and shoot up to her ears.

“You need to relax, Catra,” Entrapta tells her, undeterred. Beginning to massage the rigid flesh, she asks, “Does this help? It should help. Interpersonal touch releases dopamine, which increases one’s feelings of happiness and peace. Plus, er, your shoulders are as hard as Scorpia’s exoskeleton.”

It kind of does help. Once Catra got over her initial aversion to being touched without permission, she was able to sigh and roll her neck, release a bit of the tension. But being in Entrapta’s grip and accepting any kind of help from her makes her tense regardless. Trying (not very hard) to pull away, she grumbles, “What’s with you people and personal space? Ugh.”

Scorpia steps in eagerly and hugs her from the front, sandwiching her between the two of them. “We just want you to know how much we care about you.”

When Scorpia gives her another squeeze, Catra wriggles free and scampers out of reach. “Okay, seriously, you guys are too much. I appreciate the thought, but...” Catra hugs her arms around herself, avoiding their eyes.

Peering at her curiously, Scorpia asks, “Are you upset about Shadow Weaver?”

“No! Yes. I mean…” Catra drags her fingers through her hair. “It’s complicated.”

Scorpia gives her a look of reassurance. “Look, I know things weren’t great between you two, but she was kinda like your mom. It’s okay to be upset.”

“Yes, you were forced to watch the execution of your maternal figure,” Entrapta tilts her head, unblinking. “Feelings of grief are a perfectly normal response,” she says, her expression somewhere between sympathy and intrigue. She’s probably going to blabber into her damn recorder about Catra’s fascinating behavior for hours as soon as she leaves.

“It’s not…” Catra trails off with a sigh. “It’s a lot of things.”

Scorpia steps closer but keeps a comfortable distance this time. “Do you wanna go hit things again?”

Catra’s teeth play at the inside of her lip as she considers this. “Maybe. Do you promise not to blindside me this time?”

Scorpia gives her a conspiratory smirk. “I think I can restrain myself.” Catra can’t help returning her smile, and jerks her head toward the door. Scorpia eagerly obeys the silent order, following Catra to the exit.

“Have a good time, you two,” Entrapta calls after them, something that sounds like genuine affection in her tone. “Come back in one piece.”

Catra stops and looks back, unsure how to respond. Why is it so hard to talk to people when she’s attempting to be genuine? Words come easy when she’s playing people. But Scorpia and Entrapta aren’t a game, and since that revelation in the gym Catra has been trying to avoid treating them like one. Finally she settles on, “Uh… thanks, Entrapta. You too. No more explosions, okay?”

“No promises!” she yells, bending back over her prototype with an excited grin and glint in her eyes. Catra shakes her head with an affectionate chuckle as the princess pulls her mask down over her face. Well, at least she’s honest.

***

Sweat rolling down her cheeks, Catra shifts her weight and throws a couple of hard jabs into Scorpia’s punching mitts. Scorpia took the time to give her a little more instruction before letting her loose to throw as many punches as she wants, and she’s thrown a _lot_. She could have technically moved from the ring to one of the heavy bags, but strangely doesn’t feel any desire to put distance between herself and Scorpia right now. Maybe it’s her warm smile, or her encouraging words. Maybe Catra is actually starting to grow fond of her company. That’s a strange thought.

In any case, her bad mood is finally starting to fade. Not only is boxing a good release of aggression, it’s a great distraction from what troubles her. But then Scorpia has to go and ruin that with her stupid fucking questions. “What’s on your mind, Catra?”

When Catra responds with only a raised eyebrow and more punches, Scorpia digs, “Having nightmares again? No offense, but you look like shit. How many hours did you even sleep last night?”

“Too many,” Catra grunts as she strikes Scorpia’s mitts in a quick, crisp combo. “Hard to have nightmares when you’re awake.”

“About the execution?”

“No. Just about her.”

Just like Adora, Scorpia doesn’t give up easily. Gaze unwavering, she prods, “Something’s eating you. Did she say something to you, before?”

Catra gives her one last punch before stopping with an exhausted sigh. Scorpia’s too damn intuitive. One thing she and Adora do not have in common. “She said a lot of things before. Did her best to take me down on her way out.”

“She was wrong, you know,” Scorpia tells her intently. “Hordak didn’t make a mistake.”

“I know that,” huffs Catra.

“So what’s wrong?” When Catra’s eyes flick away, Scorpia guesses, “She said something about Adora, didn’t she?”

Sighing again, Catra goes to scratch her sweaty hairline, scowls when the bulky glove smushes into her forehead. Fine, maybe giving Scorpia something will get her to leave her alone. Maybe talking about it will make it stop bothering her. She doubts it, but it’s worth a try. “Can you keep a secret?”

Her face brightens like Catra just offered her a lifetime of hugs. “Of course!”

Such enthusiasm makes Catra’s eyes narrow with distrust. “Scorpia…”

“I swear! I won’t even tell Entrapta.”

Hesitating a moment longer, Catra finally admits, “Something happened once, between me and Adora.” Scorpia stares at her blankly and she sighs. Leaning in, she whispers, “Like, a kissing thing.”

Scorpia’s brow furrows. “Only once?” Catra glares daggers at her and she raises her pincers in a gesture of innocence. “What? From the way you guys act around each other I just assumed you were… involved.”

“We would’ve been, if it weren’t for Shadow Weaver.” Scorpia raises an eyebrow and Catra shoots her a warning look even as she explains, “I really don’t want to get into the details, but she scared me away from Adora and made Adora think I didn’t like her that way. And I didn’t realize until we talked before the execution that she was doing that on purpose, that she was fucking with Adora’s head as much as mine.”

Scorpia ponders this a moment, confusion plain on her face. “So now you feel… bad for Adora?”

“No, I’m pissed that Shadow Weaver stole our opportunity to be together when we had one, and now we never will again. And if we had been together, maybe she never would have left…” Swallowing the lump in her throat, Catra ruminates, “I mean I knew she was keeping us apart, but I didn’t realize… Adora must have thought I was mad at her for kissing me, that I didn’t want her to.” She frowns, eyes falling. “I don’t know why I didn’t think about that before.”

“Sounds like you already had a lot going on with yourself,” Scorpia says gently. “You don’t need to feel guilty about it.”

“I don’t feel guilty,” huffs Catra. Raising her fists once again, she resumes punching. “I just… wish I could fix this somehow. Make it stop bothering me.”

“Why don’t you go talk to her?” suggests Scorpia, and Catra stops abruptly.

“Uh…” Catra looks at Scorpia like the idiot she is and starts listing the very obvious reasons. “a) She’s in enemy territory, and it’s crawling with princesses. b) She _is_ the enemy. c) I’ll look like an idiot. You can’t just waltz up to your mortal enemy and say, ‘Hey, just so you know, I wanted to kiss you when we were junior cadets.’”

Scorpia’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Why not?” Catra’s eyes narrow and she points out, “Hey, if nothing else, it’ll throw her off her game.”

Tilting her head, Catra muses, “That’s true.” A sly, toothy grin splits her lips. “And it is a _lot_ of fun to fuck with Adora.” Scorpia smirks and Catra’s tail goes stiff. “That’s not-” she fumbles, “I said ‘fuck _with_ ,’ you pervert.”

“I’m not a pervert,” grins Scorpia, “I’m a romantic.”

“Ugh.”

“Come on, Catra,” she teases, lightly punching her shoulder with one mitt. “Anyone with eyes knows you have feelings for Adora. You _dipped_ her at the ball. That wasn’t subtle.” Catra’s ears flatten, fists clenching inside her gloves. Just as she’s mentally searching the Fright Zone for places she could hide such a large body, Scorpia adds, “I mean, I didn’t see it, but Entrapta said it was fascinating.”

Catra’s lips slowly part in a grin. “I bet she did,” she purrs, standing up straighter as she feels the power swinging back her way. “You know, if you’re gonna get on my case about subtlety, maybe don’t bring girls their favorite treats on a platter. Where did you even get tiny cupcakes in the Fright Zone, anyway?”

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle, I was trying to be nice!” protests Scorpia. “And I didn’t. I got one of the bakers at my family’s castle to make them.”

Eyebrow quirking, Catra remarks, “Quite the grand gesture.”

Scorpia’s arms fly up. “I wanted her to feel welcome!”

“In your pants,” cackles Catra. Scorpia burying her face in her pincers only makes her laugh harder. “Scorpia, you’re as red as your shell right now." Catra’s absolutely loving this. For once she’s getting to humiliate Scorpia instead of the other way around.

“You know what?” Scorpia throws down her mitts with a sharp flick of her claws, and before Catra can react she’s swooped her up. Next thing she knows, Scorpia’s got her ankles in one of her claws and is holding her upside down at arm’s length. “Think you’ll land on your feet if I toss you out of this ring?”

“Scorpia, stop it! Put me down!” Catra bats at Scorpia’s face with her tail as her shirt slides down and bunches around her neck. Scorpia’s grin makes her face flush in anger. “Now, Force Captain!”

“Nope, you asked for it,” is all Scorpia says before she proceeds to tickle her exposed belly.

Catra shrieks and swats at her, only to remember her front claws are covered and she’s basically defenseless. So much for not being humiliated. “Mmph, you’re fired!” she grunts, in a last ditch attempt to salvage some dignity.

Though she stops tickling her, Scorpia’s smile doesn’t fade. “You can’t fire me, my position is part of the terms of our alliance with the Horde.” She releases Catra’s ankles abruptly, letting her tumble on the canvas floor of the ring. To Catra’s credit, she does a nice little tuck and roll and does, in fact, land on her feet. That makes the whole thing just slightly less embarrassing, but as Catra surveys the gym she sees a group of soldiers watching with smirks from the weights area. A frown forms on her lips. The last thing she needs is soldiers following Scorpia’s example and disrespecting her.

Scorpia follows Catra’s gaze over her shoulder and turns back with a strange request. “Here, punch me in the face.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because those guys are staring and you feel like an idiot. I know you hate it when people make you look bad.” Scorpia leans in with a smile and pokes Catra’s shoulder. “I pay attention, you know?”

Catra slaps her pincer away with a scowl. “Fuck you.” She turns and storms toward the ropes, but not too fast, giving Scorpia ample opportunity to follow.

Scorpia does exactly that, closing the distance just as Catra reaches the edge of the ring. “Hey, come on-“

Before she can finish her sentence, Catra drops to the floor with a sweeping kick, taking Scorpia’s legs out from under her. She lands hard on her ass with a loud, surprised grunt that makes Catra chuckle. Shooting a pointed gaze at their stunned audience, Catra dusts off her hands as she gets to her feet. Looking down on her fallen opponent with a triumphant smirk, she offers her a hand up. “Thanks, but I don’t take pity victories.”

“You fight dirty,” remarks Scorpia, and Catra can’t tell if it’s a reprimand or a compliment. She grasps Catra’s hand, allowing her to take a little bit of her weight as she stands. 

“Tickling isn’t fighting dirty?” Catra points out. 

“Fair enough,” snorts Scorpia. “Call it a draw?”

“Whatever.” Hopping down to the floor of the gym proper, Catra saunters over to the bench where they left their stuff. After chugging several mouthfuls of water from her canteen, she grabs a towel to wipe her sweaty face.

“I meant what I said about Adora, you know,” Scorpia pipes up as Catra’s running the towel through her hair. It makes Catra’s ear flick and body tense up. “I think you should talk to her.”

Catra’s blue eye peeks past the towel, narrowed irritably. “You expect me to take advice from you right now, you big oaf?”

Scorpia’s smile grows bigger and brighter. “I just want you to be happy.”

Catra scowls and pitches the towel at her face. “You have strange ways of showing it.”

Scorpia chuckles and gives her a knowing smile. “Do you feel better?”

“I guess,” admits Catra.

Scorpia grins broadly and slings an arm around Catra’s shoulder, tugging her into her side as they head for the exit. “Could I interest you in a tiny cupcake, boss?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Super Pal Trio owns my heart. I saw the promo image of Scorpia and Entrapta eating tiny cupcakes and I really couldn’t resist integrating that. :D
> 
> Also, I am in full support of Scorpia forcefully loving Catra until she lets herself connect with someone again. Consent be damned. (Not really, but you know.)


	6. Vulnerability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone else dying for some Catradora content after a season with basically none? Hopefully this chapter will help. It's way longer than usual for this fic because there was really no good point to break it up, but I'm guessing no one will complain in this case.
> 
> I’d like to say as a disclaimer that this chapter was almost entirely finished before season 2 came out, so I didn’t steal any ideas or themes (or nicknames) from there. ;)
> 
> HEADS UP, this chapter contains a lots of POV switches that are not delineated by page breaks. That is, some paragraphs are Catra POV, some are Adora POV, and some are kinda neutral, and I don’t stop to tell you when it’s switching. I got this beta read to make sure it flows okay, so hopefully there won’t be any confusion!
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for references to physical and emotional child abuse. But it’s a rehashing of events already established. If you got through the first five chapters it’ll be a cakewalk.

Feet silent on the frozen forest floor, Catra slinks through the shadows in the deepening twilight. Her eyes dart about as she nears the treeline, scouting for any new defenses, but Brightmoon looks basically the same as when they retreated last week. A few buildings look to be under repair, but that’s it. There’s no sign of any guards near the forest’s edge. Catra frowns at the lax security. That seems irresponsible. If anything is too easy, she’s always suspicious. Nothing’s ever been easy, not for her.

That must be why her heart is pounding faster, echoing in her ears as she surveys the castle from the treeline. Quickly checking the map Entrapta drew her of the castle’s layout, Catra scans the exterior for Adora’s balcony. Her lips turn up as she zeroes in on it, already itching to give their customary greeting. Purring quietly, she drops to all fours and begins creeping across the clearing.

She’s made it maybe five feet in when the stun gun attached to her belt makes a weird staticky noise and then falls silent. Frowning at the device, Catra pulls it off her belt and examines it. When she flicks the on/off switch, it stays powered down. That’s weird, she checked it before she left…

Catra sighs as it dawns on her. That explains the lack of guards. The rebellion is counting on magic to protect themselves, as usual. Idiots.

“Great,” she mutters, tossing the useless weapon back into the trees. She can grab it on the way back, see if Entrapta can fix it. At least she still has her claws.

Stealth has always been one of Catra’s greatest strengths. She makes it to the castle undetected and begins slithering along the stone wall, keeping her eyes peeled for guards. She’s getting close to the balcony and starting to look for handholds when a burst of sparkles erupts in front of her, making her jump back with a yelp. Glimmer stands there scowling, hands on her hips. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Wiping the fear from her face, Catra crosses her arms and leans casually against the wall. “Surveying the damage. Plotting my next move.” Glimmer’s eyes narrow with a growl and Catra rolls her eyes. “Relax. I’m here for Adora.”

“Why would that make me relax?”

“Look, I just need to talk to her,” says Catra, raising her hands in a gesture of innocence. “See for yourself, I’m unarmed. I come in peace.”

“You, in peace?” spits Glimmer. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Catra? I was here, defending the castle. I know all the shit you pulled on us. And on Adora. I know how you cut her down in the Crystal Castle and left her to die. I know how you sliced up her back.”

Catra blinks impassively in the face of Glimmer’s wrath, constraining her face to a bored expression. “Are you done?”

Eyes flashing, Glimmer takes a threatening step closer. “Don’t talk to me that way.”

“Oh, yeah? Or what?”

Raising a cupped palm, Glimmer conjures a ball of sparkles that flashes in Catra’s face, burning her eyes and making her yelp and turn away. Just like the day she swooped in on a stupid horse and stole Adora away from her. A growl rumbling deep in her chest, Catra unsheathes her claws. There’s nothing she hates more than people who use magic to subdue her. It’s so fucking cheap.

Slowly turning back to Glimmer, she hisses, “If you do that to me again, I swear to Hordak I’m going to rip your fucking throat out.”

Glimmer raises an eyebrow. “If you do that, I can’t take you to Adora.”

A jolt of apprehension hits Catra’s stomach, and it takes a second for her to catch her breath. Frowning at the suspicious offer, she tilts her head. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I think she needs to talk to you too,” Glimmer replies matter-of-factly.

“I’m not an idiot either,” Catra assures her. ”I know a trap when I see one.”

“If I was going to take you to the prison, I’d have called for backup by now,” says Glimmer. Catra squints as she considers this. Huffing impatiently, Glimmer tosses a hand in the air. “You want to talk to Adora? Then come with me.”

Catra scowls. She doesn’t really have a lot of choice in the matter. She’s been caught, either way. If she tries to run she’ll definitely have to fight off a princess and likely a bunch of guards. If she doesn’t, maybe she won’t. In any case, following Glimmer buys her some time to formulate an escape plan. “Fine,” she huffs. “Lead the way.”

“Not so fast,” Glimmer scolds her. When she produces a strip of cloth from her pocket, Catra rolls her eyes.

“A blindfold? Seriously?”

“I’m not giving you a free tour of the palace, Force Captain,” retorts Glimmer.

“Uhhh, couldn’t you just teleport us?”

“Like I’m wasting my powers on you.” Glimmer motions for Catra to turn around, an order she obeys with a dramatic sigh. Once the blindfold is tied securely, Glimmer prods her in the back. “Move it.”

So, Glimmer’s powers are finite in some way. Catra smirks to herself as she starts walking. What else can she get out of this idiot by keeping her talking? “You know, you could just tell me where she is, instead of going through this whole song and dance.”

“No way. I’m not letting you out of my sight, and I’m definitely not gonna let you hurt her again.”

Catra chuckles derisively. “Uh, no offence shorty, but I don’t think the mighty She-Ra needs your help.”

“She does right now.”

Brow creasing, Catra looks back over her shoulder, which is stupid because she can’t see anyway. “Is she okay?” She sounds concerned, and she hates it. But she was caught off guard, to be fair.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” says Glimmer, “but she’s been out of commission for a week because of you. Apparently your claws are magical or something. We practically had to lock her in her room so she wouldn’t reaggravate the injury.” Catching herself, she quickly tacks on, “Don’t get any ideas, she’s nearly healed up. By the time you could muster an attack, she’d be back in action.”

Grunting as she absorbs this, Catra muses, “Magical claws, huh? Maybe I’m a princess too. That’d be cool, huh Sparkles? I could join your slumber parties.” She stumbles forward a step as Glimmer shoves her from behind.

“Gross,” she grumbles. “I’d rather give up my powers than have something in common with you.”

Catra snorts. “You mean other than being in love with Adora?”

There’s a scuffing noise behind her as Glimmer halts abruptly. “You’re in love with Adora?”

“What? No! I just meant…” Catra waves her off with an exasperated noise somewhere between a growl and a sigh, turning away to hide her blush. “Never mind.”

They make it inside the castle undetected and begin navigating the halls, Glimmer whispering directions into Catra’s ear every so often. They’ve made it through several hallways and up a couple flights of stairs before they run into any trouble. Catra rounds a corner as directed and takes a couple steps before Glimmer suddenly yanks her backwards.

“Halt! Who’s there?” a deep feminine voice calls as Glimmer drags Catra back around the corner. Footsteps close in on them and the guard commands, “Show yourself!”

“Shit,” mutters Glimmer. Suddenly Catra is hit by a weird head rush, almost feels suspended in mid-air as a twinkling sound fills her ears. She hears it once more as the foggy feeling clears and the pressure under her feet returns.

Snatching her arm out of Glimmer’s grasp, Catra pulls the blindfold off. It slips from her fingers as her eyes bulge, taking in the opulence around her. This is definitely a room fit for a princess. There’s a canopy surrounding the bed, a bunch of useless shiny stuff, and a waterfall. A fucking waterfall. “No wonder,” she snorts.

Adora’s voice wafts into the room from the balcony. “Glimmer?”

Catra freezes, stomach sinking into her butt. She came here to see Adora, but simply hearing her voice is enough to make her nearly pee her pants. Which is funny, considering she brought a whole army to her doorstep and gladly fought her hand-to-hand like a week ago. 

Glimmer grabs Catra’s arm again and thrusts her forward as Adora enters the room. “I found this one sneaking around the palace.”

Adora’s wearing her old uniform top but not her jacket, and her ponytail is messier than usual, a few loose strands of hair framing her face. Still frozen on the spot, Catra blinks away the brief sense of shock. It’s been a while since she’s seen Adora at home.

Adora’s eyes go wide at the sight of Catra standing there in Glimmer’s grasp. A wave of panic rises in her chest and she reaches over her shoulder for the sword that isn’t there.

That movement makes Catra’s face fall. She should be flattered, really, that Adora sees her as a threat. And she is flattered, but it also causes a cramp in her chest. Of course that’s Adora’s first reaction to seeing her, now.

Glimmer’s grip disappears as she teleports away. Two seconds later she reappears at Adora’s side, holding the sword. Catra scowls as Adora smiles in relief at her friend. “Thanks, Glim.”

“Glim,” Catra mutters under her breath. Gross.

Staring Catra down, Adora holds the sword in a defensive position but doesn’t transform. Not yet. “What are you doing here?”

Raising her hands, Catra calmly says, “Relax, princess. I’m not here to fight, I’m here to talk.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” sneers Adora. “After you left me hanging in that temple and nearly destroyed Bright Moon?”

Catra’s ears droop. “Forget it,” she mutters. “I knew this was a bad idea.” She eyes the entrance to the balcony. She could get by these idiots and beat them to it, she’s quick enough. But Sparkles would just teleport onto her and drag her back. For now, she’s trapped. She needs to bide her time.

Adora knows exactly what Catra’s considering, can see the wheels turning in her head as she weighs her options. Living your whole life with someone has that effect. “Wait,” she says, before Catra can make a move. When Catra’s eyes flick her way, hers go wide as she realizes something. She doesn’t want Catra to leave. That frightens her almost as much as Catra’s presence. More, actually. She gives her head a resigned shake. “You’re already here. Just say what you came to say.”

When Catra hesitates, Glimmer crosses her arms and snarks, “You heard her.”

“Could we maybe have a little privacy, Sparkles?” Catra shoots back.

“No fucking way. I’m not leaving you alone with her.”

Catra cocks a saucy eyebrow. “Jealous, much?”

“Glimmer, please,” Adora interjects, placing a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder. When Glimmer’s flaming eyes meet hers, she keeps her expression as calm as possible, despite her anxiety. “We need to talk, and that’s not gonna happen if you’re standing around. No offense. We need to be alone.”

With a dramatic sigh, Glimmer mutters, “Of course you do.” Then she teleports away, leaving Adora staring down the person who means the most to her in the world… who also happens to be the person who scares her the most. Not so much for her fighting prowess, though that is impressive, but for the power she holds over Adora. How easily she can hurt her. And Catra’s tail is starting to swish back and forth in that predatory way it does when she’s feeling empowered and in control. Maybe Adora should transform after all, knock her down a peg.

“Hey, Adora.” Catra flashes a toothy grin, showing off her fangs. “How you been?”

“Peachy,” Adora says flatly. “You?”

“Liar.” Prowling closer, Catra suddenly stops and sniffs the air. Her lips stretch in a wide smile. “Someone’s been a bad girl. _Glim_ said you’re supposed to be resting, but you’ve been working out.”

Adora rolls her eyes. Catra’s superior senses can be very inconvenient at times. “There’s lots of reasons people sweat.”

“Smells different. Even once you clean up, I can tell whether you’ve been pumping iron or pumping your pussy.” When Adora’s mouth falls open, Catra can’t help chuckling. “What? We shared a bed, it’s not like I never noticed. I’m a light sleeper.”

Now Adora goes bright red. Oh, wow. If Catra had known it was going to be this much fun, she would’ve come and fucked with Adora a lot sooner.

Scowling, Adora crosses her arms. “Fine, I was working out. You know me, I can’t stand lying around doing nothing. I go nuts if I can’t train.” She raises a challenging eyebrow. “You gonna tell on me?”

“When have I ever ratted you out?” The playfulness in Catra’s smirk balances out the devious glint in her eye, and when she winks, it feels every bit as affectionate as it does threatening.

Despite everything, Adora can’t keep a small smile from sprouting on her lips. “Never.”

Adora’s smile. Her fucking smile. Catra’s always loved it, but right now she hates the way it makes her heart skip. Puffing her chest out, she responds, “Of course not. No one likes a tattletale.” She snorts as another thought crosses her mind. “Except maybe Shadow Weaver.”

Adora frowns slightly. “Does she know you’re here?”

Catra’s forehead creases as she considers her next move. Divulging this information to the enemy could be a huge mistake, but on the other hand it could really mess Adora up, and that was the point of this mission. Plus, she kind of wants to see Adora’s reaction, and maybe to brag a little. That selfish impulse wins out. “Shadow Weaver’s dead.”

“What?” Adora stares at Catra slack-jawed. This has to be a joke, or a lie. Shadow Weaver is Shadow Weaver, the most powerful person she’s ever known. At least, until recently.

…But Catra’s not joking, not lying. Adora can tell from the set of her jaw, the directness of her gaze. As the news sinks in, she demands, “When? How?”

“A few days ago. Hordak had her executed.”

Adora’s mouth flaps uselessly a couple times, struggling to produce even a single word. “ _Why?_ ”

“Because she turned on him after he gave me her shiny rock to play with.” Catra tilts her head with a proud smirk. “I took her out for him, broke her fucking mask and everything.”

That’s impressive. Honestly, it is, but Adora can’t let Catra gain all the power in this mental battle, so she intentionally redirects. “Why would he give you the Black Garnet? You’re not a sorceress or a princess.”

Catra’s face falls a little at the passed up compliment, but she doesn’t miss a beat. “More like he gave me authority over it, because Entrapta wanted to tinker with it and she’s very good at tinkering… most of the time.”

A mild headrush makes Adora’s mouth fall open once again. “Entrapta’s alive?”

Catra blinks, genuinely confused. “You thought she was dead?”

“Yeah, obviously,” says Adora. “I’d never leave her behind.”

The breath leaves Catra’s body. Adora couldn’t have punched her in the gut harder if she was She-ra on steroids. Forcing out a cruel laugh, Catra snipes, “Lucky her.”

“That’s not fair,” huffs Adora, crossing her arms as best she can with a giant sword in one hand. “I asked you to come with me.”

“After you’d already decided to leave.”

Head tilting, Adora purses her lips. “Oh, I’m sorry I assumed you’d want to leave if you knew the Horde was evil.”

“Right, you assumed I couldn’t have any opinions or feelings of my own,” parries Catra.

“So in your opinion it was okay that the Horde was attacking a village full of innocent people?”

Catra scoffs. “Since when do you care if the Horde hurts innocent people? You never tried to stop them before.”

“I never knew-”

“For fuck’s sakes, Adora, I’m not talking about those stupid fucking villagers!”

Catra’s outburst shocks Adora into silence, leaving her to stare dumbly into her flaming, mesmerising eyes. Her confusion must show, because Catra’s fists clench at her sides and she spells out, “How is it you only realized the people who raised us were terrible when you saw what their army did to people you didn’t even know? Did you never clue in when they were hurting me all those years?”

Face falling, Adora stammers, “That’s- that’s different…”

“Why, because I deserved it?”

“Because that’s how I grew up,” she says, sidestepping the partial truth in Catra’s accusation. Though Adora always thought Shadow Weaver was unnecessarily harsh with Catra, she justified it by telling herself that’s just what happens when you’re unruly and disrespectful to your superiors. It was easier to think of it that way than to admit how uncomfortable it made her, how unfair it felt. “It’s what I was used to. I only started to question things once I met Glimmer and Bow.”

“Of course they made you see it. You go running off with those two and suddenly a bunch of random strangers mean more to you than me.” Though her face is all hard lines of anger, Catra’s eyes scream with pain as she demands, “How do you think that made me feel?”

It’s an ingrained response, reaching for Catra when she sees her in pain. But when Adora automatically steps closer and lifts a hand, Catra takes a deliberate step back, leaving her grasping at air. A dull ache fills Adora’s chest and she drops her hand. Channelling all her sincerity, she wills Catra to hear her, really hear her when she says, “I did what I did for the greater good, not because I cared about them more than you.” The rising lump in her throat alters her voice slightly as she continues, “No one means more to me than you, Catra. No one. You’re my best friend.”

Scowling at the floor, Catra corrects her. “ _Was_ your best friend.”

Head shaking slightly, Adora murmurs, “That’s not how it feels when I look at you.”

“That’s a load of shit,” snaps Catra. “Your first instinct when you see me is to pull out your sword.”

Adora deflates with a sigh. “I wish it wasn’t.”

“And I suppose that’s my fault.”

Adora’s mouth opens, on the verge of saying it’s her fault. Her fault for leaving Catra behind in the barracks, her fault for not trying harder to convince her to defect in Thaymor. But, no. She’s supposed to be combatting those thought patterns. _Not my fault, not my fault_. Rather than taking the blame, she shrugs with a sad twitch of her mouth. “It’s no one’s fault. Just the way things are.”

Gazing at the weapon in her hand, Adora makes a conscious choice. Tossing it aside, out of both of their reaches, she watches Catra’s reaction closely. Her eyebrows arch slightly but she makes no move to take advantage of the act of goodwill. Satisfied she’s not about to be attacked, Adora thinks back over what she’s learned in the last few minutes. Her mind sticks on one point in particular and she frowns. “Shadow Weaver. Did she… did she suffer?”

One of Catra’s ears flicks, the question irritating her for some reason. “Hardly. It was a beheading.” Of course there’s the beating she gave Shadow Weaver beforehand, but she has no desire to brag about that. When Adora gives a wistful nod in response, she tips her head mockingly. “You’re sad? Really, Adora?”

Maybe that’s a little hypocritical. Though she’d never admit it, Catra’s been weighed down by a certain empty sadness since Shadow Weaver died. Which is funny, considering a large part of her wanted that woman dead. She likes to think it’s because she was left unsatisfied. She never got what she needed from Shadow Weaver. And now she never will.

Brow furrowing, Adora nibbles her lip. “I’m not sad, I’m… conflicted. My relationship with Shadow Weaver was complicated.”

“That’s one way to put it,” snorts Catra.

Adora’s eyes snap up. “Hey, look, I know you two didn’t exactly get along most of the time, but she’s the closest thing we had to a mother.”

“‘Didn’t exactly get along’?” parrots Catra, shoulders clenching as she steps closer. “She made my life hell for years, Adora!” Her eyes drop with a scoff, tongue tucking under her lip. Shaking her head, she tells Adora, “You have no idea what she did to me.”

“You’re right! I don’t know, because you would never tell me.”

Catra waves her off. “You didn’t really want to know.”

“Bullshit, Catra! Don’t take it out on me because you were too proud to admit you were suffering. I wanted to help, I wanted to be there for you.” Adora sighs. She can barely meet Catra’s eyes as she asks, “Did I not make it clear how I felt about you?”

The words tug at Catra’s heartstrings, but she gives Adora only a vicious snort. “You made it pretty clear when you left.”

Rubbing her temples, Adora mumbles, “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, I know what you meant,” purrs Catra, giving Adora a bright-eyed smirk. Then she lets it fall right off her face. “You’re talking about the time Shadow Weaver almost killed me over something you did.”

“What?” Adora blinks. “Are we talking about the same-”

“That stunt you pulled in the locker room? _Yeah_.”

Hurt flickers in Adora’s eyes, quickly replaced by a haze of confusion. “I don’t understand. Why would she…?”

“Because she hated me. And she hated that we were friends, let alone anything else.” Catra gestures at herself with a comically wide grin and overly animated hands. “Don’t you remember, Adora? I’m a bad influence.”

Adora’s eyes fall to the floor. “I remember,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have if I’d known she’d get so upset.”

“Of course not,” Catra says flatly. “You’d rather eat your own shit than disappoint mommy dearest.”

Adora growls in frustration. “That is not what I meant, and you know it. Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“Have you met me?” chuckles Catra.

Pointedly ignoring the joke, Adora demands, “How did she even know? Did you tell her?”

“Obviously not,” scoffs Catra. “Who knows? She was magical, she always knew everything bad I did. Hell, I would’ve kissed you back if I’d thought I could get away with it.”

There it is. That thing she came here to say. Catra’s glad she got an opportunity to bring it up in the flow of the conversation, because she’s honestly not sure she could have summoned the courage to say that out of nowhere. Watching her words dawn on Adora, she does her best to keep her expression casual. Does her best to suppress the shivers in her limbs and ignore the sensation of her stomach trying to fight its way out of her.

“Wait, what?” Adora’s expression is priceless, dazed and confused, all wide eyes and parted lips. It’s really too bad that Catra’s too nervous to laugh at how dumb she looks. Finally Adora blinks her expression back into something normal. Something thoughtful. “That’s why you started holding me at a distance. You were scared.” Her mouth quirks with an ironic chuckle. “I always thought you didn’t want me.”

“That’s what Shadow Weaver wanted you to think,” says Catra. “She told me, before she died. Punishing me for what you did was more effective. If you thought I didn’t want you, you’d back off. It was her way of keeping us apart.”

A hard expression comes over Adora’s face. “She really was evil, wasn’t she?”

Catra scoffs. “Of course you only realize that now. Not when she called me worthless all those times, or when she took away my rations, or when she was torturing me for shit you pulled.” Adora’s brow furrows and Catra cocks an eyebrow. “Remember how I disappeared for a few days for intensive training, came back covered in bruises from ‘sparring with senior cadets’?” A deep satisfaction fills her as she watches the color drain from Adora’s face. “Oh, now you make the connection.”

It takes Adora a few tries to form any words. When she finally does, she sounds almost indignant. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because there was nothing you could do, and you’d go crazy from the guilt.” Catra shakes her head wistfully. “Did you really think it was you protecting me all these years?”

Adora squints as she thinks this through. “So you didn’t want me to know, you didn’t tell me, but you’re mad at me for not knowing?”

“I shouldn’t have had to tell you,” retorts Catra. “But you’re so fucking blind, you never saw anything but what you wanted to see.”

“So what did I miss?” Adora juts her chin out. “Tell me. I don’t need you to protect me either.”

It feels like a challenge. And while Catra has never been one to make herself vulnerable, she’s never been one to back down from a challenge, either. Especially not where Adora is concerned. Besides, if anyone’s gonna come out of this exchange crying, it’s Adora. Catra already knows how the story ends.

“Okay,” Catra agrees with a decisive nod. “When she found out, how ever she found out, she dragged me to the prison and beat me to a pulp, told me how worthless I was and how I never did anything but cause trouble.” Catra shrugs nonchalantly. “That wasn’t anything abnormal, though. That’d been going on for about as long as I can remember. Any time you remember me disappearing for a while after getting in trouble, that’s where I was.”

Adora’s mouth slips open, but she can’t breathe. The horror of it all has paralyzed her lungs, but unfortunately not her mind. She can’t even count the number of times that happened over the years. Ever since they were little kids. Adora had always hoped those disappearances were just really long lectures or extended time outs. Part of her always doubted that, but she never wanted to think about it.

Catra watches as the life goes out of Adora’s expression, doing her best to keep her own impassive. She knew it. Adora already can’t handle it, and she hasn’t even told her the worst part yet. Part of her loves watching Adora crumble under the weight of this knowledge, but another part wants to stop before she actually does make her cry. Catra has to remind herself that fucking with Adora is what she came to do. And saying this out loud, she feels… freer. It feels like taking a burden off her shoulders that she’s been carrying for years. Might as well throw it on Adora’s. Let her see how she likes it.

“What was different that time was, she took that belt and wrapped it around my neck, just about choked me to death. Then she threatened to send me away, separate us permanently if you ever touched me like that again.” Snorting ironically, Catra reiterates, “If _you_ ever touched _me_. Of course it wasn’t because of anything I did. She did that to me because you couldn’t keep your greedy fucking lips to yourself.” She can feel her bitterness building into true anger, the kind that swells in her chest and buzzes in her brain. Staring down a horrified Adora, she spits, “You didn’t even think about what could happen to me, did you? You just did what you wanted, took what you wanted. That’s what you always did.”

Eyes squeezing shut, Adora starts reciting the mantra under her breath. “Not my fault, not my fault.” It does little to absolve her of her guilt. Because, well, it kind of is her fault. This awful thing that happened to Catra was because of her actions. She kissed Catra, and Catra suffered for it.

But... it wasn’t a direct result of her actions, was it? Trying to mimic her friends’ logic and compassion for her, Adora breaks this down. Adora didn’t make Shadow Weaver react the way she did. Adora didn’t torture and threaten Catra herself. She didn’t do anything inherently wrong. Maybe she was careless and ignorant about the situation, but she didn’t choose that situation. Shadow Weaver did this to Catra. Adora didn’t. Adora didn’t. “Not my fault, not my fault, not my fault.”

Finally looking up and meeting Catra’s confused gaze, Adora twitches her mouth sheepishly. “I’ve been working on this with Bow and Glimmer.” Though it goes against her very nature and she feels like an asshole for saying it, she straightens up and asserts, “I can’t blame myself for things Shadow Weaver did, and you shouldn’t either. It’s not fair.”

Catra’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want to talk about what’s fair? Fuck you, Adora. You got the fairest shake of anyone. So fair, it was unfair. You have no idea what it’s like to be anyone but a spoiled teacher’s pet! Everything you did always got taken out on me, but you never noticed, did you?”

“Of course I did!” snaps Adora. Those words stun Catra, freezing her in place. “Why else did you think I was such a suck up? Yeah, I wanted her to like me, I wanted to get promoted one day. But the reason I tried so hard to be good all the time was because I knew…” Adora’s voice cracks, but she doesn’t stop. “I knew if I wasn’t, Shadow Weaver would blame you. She’d say you were a bad influence or slowing me down or whatever. I didn’t want her to go after you.”

Adora watches as Catra absorbs this with a blank face, her only response a small flick of one ear. Gesturing at her lamely, Adora concludes, “You say I’m blind? You’re just as bad.”

Catra says nothing for a long moment. When she finally does, her voice has gone very quiet. “So if you knew, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried, but all it ever did was make things worse,” sighs Adora, running fingers through her hair. “You know how she gets.”

“Not to Shadow Weaver. To me.”

Forehead crinkling, Adora stammers, “I… I don’t know. What did you want me to say?”

Catra rolls her eyes. “That it wasn’t right. That it wasn’t my fault. You’d always tell me how to act so she wouldn’t come after me, you never said she shouldn’t be doing it in the first place.”

“Oh, shit,” Adora whispers, the blood draining from her head as the implications hit her. “I didn’t mean it was your fault. I was trying to protect you by keeping you out of trouble.”

“That’s not what I heard.” Catra swallows the fledgling lump in her throat, and even then her voice is on the verge of cracking when she says, “That’s not how it felt.”

Adora looks stricken, face white as a sheet. “I am so sorry, Catra.”

“Yeah,” mutters Catra. “You’re always sorry.”

Giving in to the lightheadedness, Adora sinks down onto her bed. There’s a million thoughts running through her head, a million memories resurfacing with this new context she’s been given. All those times Catra was dragged away and came back despondent or simmering with rage. All those times Adora advised her to lay low and avoid making Shadow Weaver angry. Adora digs her fingertips into her throbbing forehead and temples, rubbing hard. She’s fucked up. She’s fucked up so badly.

Hearing Catra shift her weight brings her back to the moment. Peering up at her through stinging eyes, she sees her best friend anew. Her heart aches. “I wish we’d had more time in Thaymor,” she says, and the words are a surprise even to her. Her brow creases as she muses, “Maybe none of this would’ve happened if we’d had time to talk things out.” Forcing a weak smile, she adds, “Seems to help.”

Catra’s eyes fall shut with a heavy sigh. “Talking won’t fix this, Adora. Not now.”

“Because now you’ve committed to being evil?” snorts Adora. She regrets the words the second they leave her mouth. She’s not supposed to be the bitter and spiteful one, that’s not who she is, or at least not who she wants to be. But she has no chance to take it back. Catra’s eyes are already sparking and narrowing into slits.

“No, because now I’ve realized what a shitty friend you were!” spits Catra. “Because it’s too little, way too fucking late! I tried to reason with you in Salineas because I wanted you back, not because it was my job. But you didn’t get that, and you didn’t even try to understand my side of things or convince me to leave the Horde. You just gave up on me! You treated me like a monster and a nuisance at that stupid fucking ball. You never even tried to get through to me until I let you escape. Did I really have to prove my goodness to you, Adora? Were all the times I suffered for you not enough?”

The accusations hit Adora like a series of arrows, embedding themselves in her chest and taking hold. The worst part is how she can’t deny their truth. After Catra rejected her offer in Thaymor, she was angry and, quite frankly, heartbroken. She didn’t understand, and it was easier to think that Catra didn’t leave because Adora had never really known her, that Catra had been evil all along, another piece of Adora’s life that had all been an illusion. And when she saw Catra in Salineas and the Kingdom of Snows, she held on to that belief because it was convenient and it matched the emotions that welled up when she saw her face. Maybe Adora is bitter and spiteful after all.

Adora was fully prepared to apologize for her careless words just now, but she can’t apologize for this. Sorry won’t cut it. “You’re right,” she says, and Catra’s mouth slips open. “Shadow Weaver always told me I was a good friend, but that was a lie.” Crossing her arms over her stomach, Adora stares down at her knees. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t try.”

Hearing another sigh from above, Adora sneaks a brief glance up at Catra to see her dragging a hand through her shaggy hair, eyes squeezed shut. When she speaks, she sounds sad. And tired. “I know you tried. You’re Adora.” Her claws make little ticking sounds against the floor as she takes hesitant steps in Adora’s direction, and Adora doesn’t dare look up. Not until the bed dips beside her as Catra settles a couple feet away, head in her hands.

Adora’s eyes burn and fall back to her lap. Idly watching her fidgeting hands, she says, “All I ever wanted was to make you happy. And all I did was cause you pain.”

The tears in her voice make Catra’s already broken heart splinter into tiny pieces. Turning her head, she watches a solitary tear roll down Adora’s cheek and drip from her chin. She can barely suppress the urge to reach out and wipe it away. Catra came here to hurt Adora. She wanted to see her cry. Now she can’t stand the sight.

“No, that’s not all,” she says, laying a tentative hand on Adora’s knee. That used to be such an easy, natural thing to do. Now it feels like danger, vulnerability, a careless gamble. Maybe it is. She leaves her hand there anyway, pinching the fabric of Adora’s pants between her thumb and forefinger. “There were good things, too. It was mostly good things. Things so good I felt like I died when they got taken away. When _she_ took them away.”

Catra’s voice threatens to crack as her throat swells. Swallowing hard, she blinks up and catches Adora’s eyes, bright and brimming with tears. “But even then, sometimes those memories made things better. Something to hold on to.” Her eyes dart away again as she pushes the last sentence out of her aching throat, barely a whisper. “Just knowing someone loved me.”

“Loves,” Adora corrects her without hesitation. Catra exhales sharply with something Adora thinks might have been a strangled sob. Acting purely on instinct, she reaches out, lifts and turns Catra’s chin. “Catra,” she says.

Catra’s eyes meeting hers makes Adora’s breath catch. Her eyes are so beautiful, Adora has always thought so. Why anyone would ever make fun of them is beyond her. And they’re far from her only mesmerising feature. Adora’s heart begins to pound as she mindlessly traces her thumb up and over the corner of Catra’s lip. She doesn’t close the gap between them, as much as she wants to. She won’t force herself on Catra again, won’t cause her pain again. Not without her permission, anyway.

The desire plain in Adora’s eyes makes Catra’s stomach clench in protest, panic rising in her chest. This is bad, this is bad. She needs to pull away, now, or Shadow Weaver will...

No. Shadow Weaver’s dead. She can’t hurt Catra anymore, can’t take Adora away from her. Adora’s already gone, anyway. What does she have to lose?

Catra sighs, flits her tongue out over her lips as she zeroes in on Adora’s. They look soft and inviting as ever. Wasn’t this her last wish, that day she thought she was about to die? That thought is enough to convince her to lean in. Resting her forehead against Adora’s, she exhales shakily.

Adora runs a thumb along her hairline and whispers so quietly Catra almost thinks she imagined it. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

And Catra can’t hold back anymore. Her eyelids flutter shut and she pushes forward, finding Adora’s lips with her own.

Their first kiss was innocent. Their second is brimming with guilt and regret.

Catra wishes all she felt was the sparks in her stomach, but they’re accompanied by a sense of impending doom. Neither of them has budged an inch on changing sides. This won’t make up for all the lost years where they pined for each other and never found relief. This is just going to make everything hurt more. She knows that. But that’s the last thing she wants to think about right now, so she lifts a hand and cups Adora’s jaw, kisses her harder.

Adora knows they shouldn’t be doing this. Adora doesn’t care. Trying to lose herself in Catra’s kiss like she always dreamed of, she channels her inner Bow and tells herself to just be Adora. Not She-Ra. _Don’t worry about the war, worry about yourself_. She already sacrificed her relationship with Catra for the rebellion once, and she’s not keen on doing it again. She knows this probably won’t change anything, won’t make Catra leave the Horde. But damn it, she’s going to enjoy this moment, this oasis of happiness in a landscape of dissatisfaction and deep longing. Right now, it’s just her and Catra. Like it always should have been.

Pulling herself onto Adora’s lap, Catra straddles her hips, arms looping around her neck. Breaking the kiss, she nuzzles Adora’s neck, grazing her lips and nose over the sensitive, fragrant skin. Once she’s had her fill, she tucks her head under Adora’s chin and sighs in relief. She’s missed this as much as the kisses themselves. After everything that happened, she didn’t trust herself to get this close to Adora again. Tears quickly well up in her eyes, bittersweet tears that taste of joy and heartbreak. And as hers roll down her chin and onto Adora’s chest, she feels more dripping onto her cheek from above.

No. Adora shouldn’t be sad. Catra doesn’t want that, has never wanted that, not really. Even when it was all she wanted, seeing Adora cry hurt some deep part of her, a part of her she had to shut out. Catra’s had a lot of practice compartmentalizing her emotions, it wasn’t that hard. She’s done it before, and she can do it again. Giving a contented little purr, she headbutts under Adora’s chin. When Adora chuckles lightly, she lifts her head and gives her a toothy smile. Pricking Adora’s jaw teasingly with her claws, Catra dips her head and presses their lips together again.

When Catra’s raspy tongue slips between Adora’s lips and strokes her softer one, Adora gasps slightly, and Catra can’t help the way her lips turn up in a smug grin. A deep purr rumbles in her chest and echoes between her legs, urging her onwards. She slips her hands under Adora’s shirt, mapping the firm muscles of her abdomen, humming to herself. _Not bad, Adora_. Continuing their journey, her eager fingers trail over the ridges of Adora’s hipbones and then up her back.

Catra’s brow furrows when her hands encounter more fabric. Bandages, she realizes as Adora winces under her touch. Then she remembers. Her ears droop and she tucks her face back into Adora’s neck, unable to look her in the eye. “Sorry,” she whispers, hoping Adora understands she doesn’t just mean for right now. She laces apologetic little kisses down Adora’s neck, an apology Adora seems to accept if the soft moans emanating from her throat are any indication. Those noises only fan the flames in Catra’s belly, the need to get closer overwhelming her.

Grabbing at the collar of her uniform top, Catra yanks it over her head and tosses it aside. Adora’s eyes go wide but Catra doesn’t give her time to stare before her hands are trailing under the hem of Adora’s shirt, pushing it up her stomach. Adora compliantly lifts her arms, letting Catra peel it off her and level the playing field. Maybe she’s moving too fast, Catra has no experience and therefore no idea, but in her mind she’s just making up for lost time. And Adora doesn’t seem to mind.

Returning to the embrace, Catra lets out an embarrassing little whimper at the feeling of Adora’s skin against hers. It’s instantly addictive. Her tail swishes back and forth over Adora’s knees as their lips come back together and her hands resume exploring. Catra can hardly believe this isn’t a dream. She spent all that time imagining the way Adora’s skin felt, smelled, tasted under her uniform, but she never thought she’d get to find out. Her mouth is already watering at the prospect. Leaving Adora’s lips, she swipes her tongue along the underside of her collarbone, savoring the flavor and Adora’s tiny gasp.

Adora’s fist closes in her hair and Catra drags her lips down her chest. Unable to stop herself, she pushes Adora to the mattress with mewls of need, only to remember the injury when Adora winces again. Adora doesn’t say anything, but she does roll over onto Catra and reposition their bodies so they’re lengthwise on the bed. Making the final adjustments, she lays Catra down with her head on the pillow so gently and with such care in her eyes that for a second Catra could swear she’s melting in her arms. Her stomach tumbles around inside her, torn between excitement and terror.

Adora smirks down at her. “I’d let you have this, but I need to stay off my back.”

Catra raises an eyebrow. ”Let me?” Her heart is still in her throat and the words come out embarrassingly weak.

“You know what I mean,” groans Adora, rolling her eyes. If Catra tries to derail this over semantics, Adora’s gonna kiss her until she shuts the fuck up.

Catra swallows to get her casual voice back. “It’s fine, I get it. Why do you think I always slept facing you after I got in trouble? You kick a lot, you know.” Adora’s face falls and Catra quickly chuckles, pasting on a smile. “Adora, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Her features firm up into that adorable expression of determination that Catra knows so well. “I’m going to make this up to you.” Grasping both of Catra’s hands, Adora lifts them over Catra’s head and pins them to the pillow. Catra gives her a hiss of warning but doesn’t fight back. She’s interested to see what form these amends take, what can she say?

Half expecting a pompous smirk from Adora, Catra’s relieved to find her expression still serious as she lays gentle kisses on Catra’s cheekbone and down her jaw. That seriousness also makes her squirm a little, though. Letting Adora take care of her, accepting Adora’s tenderness, allowing this person who has hurt her so much to touch her this way… it does something to her stomach that she doesn’t like. Being underneath Adora and letting her take the lead only adds to her anxiety. Giving up control makes her feel exposed. Vulnerable. Weak. Panic creeps into her chest, her head, her limbs, and she begins to shudder as Adora’s lips graze down her neck and along her shoulder.

The feeling of Catra trembling under her touch makes Adora feel like she’s caught another virus. Her skin goes hot and her brain melts into happy mush. “Mm,” Adora mumbles into the fine fur on Catra’s shoulder, leaving a tiny bite on the meat of her lean muscle. “I always wanted to make you feel like this.”

“Adora,” comes the shaky reply, barely a whisper.

“Catra,” Adora purrs right back, a stupid grin on her face.

The shuddering intensifies and Adora chuckles with pride, trailing a hand down Catra’s side and onto her quivering belly. It doesn’t occur to her that Catra’s acting out of anything other than desire until she gasps out, “Adora, stop.”

“Huh?” Adora blinks up from lacing kisses along the top of Catra’s bra. Her head clears immediately as she registers the panic in Catra’s eyes. “Are you okay?” she asks, rising up onto all fours, giving Catra space but keeping what she hopes is a comforting hand on her hip.

Catra shakes her head but seems unable to speak. Adora waits patiently, rubbing a gentle thumb back and forth over her skin. When Catra finally manages words, her voice is strained and raspy. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Adora assures her immediately. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed, but that emotion is dwarfed by her concern, her deep need to take care of Catra and keep her safe. That thing that Catra resents so much about her. One of many things. Pushing those thoughts aside, she asks her, “What can I do?”

Catra’s chest cramps at those words, at the attentive face watching over her. She doesn’t deserve this. Love, kindness, Adora. Maybe she did once, when she was the devoted friend who secretly protected Adora in every way she could and let Adora believe she was the strong one. But not now. She’s done so much to harm Adora. Why is Adora still offering her compassion? It must be out of pity. It must be-

All of Catra’s thoughts are silenced by Adora leaning down and planting a firm kiss on her forehead. “Shhh,” she breathes. “It’s okay.” A shaky sigh pushes out of Catra’s lungs and her eyelids flutter closed. Adora leaves another peck on one of them, and tears spring up under her lips. Catra wishes this only felt like comfort, not comfort and danger. Comfort and pain.

“No,” she whispers.

“Hm?”

“It’s not okay.” Catra sits up and turns away, letting her legs hang off the edge of the bed. Her throat aches, eyes brimming with tears. “Why did she have to ruin everything for us?” 

Hesitating a moment, Adora edges closer and puts a hand on Catra’s shoulder. Nothing too intimate or threatening, just enough to let her know that she’s there. That she hears her.

Adora’s touch only aggravates the cramps in Catra’s throat and chest. She forces out the rest of her thought in a quiet rasp. “We could’ve been happy.”

A slicing pain cuts through Adora’s chest. She rests her cheekbone on Catra’s shoulder with a shuddering sigh. It’s a moment before Catra tips her head to rest against hers.

Catra’s not sure whether it’s an attempt to comfort Adora or herself when she tilts Adora’s chin up and kisses her once more. This kiss is slower. Not hungry, like before. It’s mournful, full of tears. It hurts. But Catra can’t seem to stop herself.

Adora can’t either. Her thumbs brush tears from Catra’s freckled cheeks, ignoring the ones welling up in her own eyes. As Adora’s fingers gently probe Catra’s jaw line, Catra allows Adora’s tongue to slip past her lips, and Adora lets out a little moan. She’s not sure if it’s one of desire or anguish.

Both of them jump when they hear the twinkling sound that announces Glimmer’s presence. But there’s no time to come apart, to hide what’s going on. Glimmer is already standing there, her face lax and pale at the sight of them shirtless in each other’s arms. Adora’s mouth is dry and paralyzed, and though it must be only a couple seconds, it feels like an eternity before anyone makes a move.

Face hardening, Glimmer hurls a sparkle bomb to the floor at their feet. Adora has to shield her face and rub her eyes, but she can still hear perfectly. “Now!” shouts Glimmer, and heavy bootsteps fill the room. Adora feels Catra flip over beside her and scramble for the exit, but she doesn’t even get off the bed before they’ve shot out a net and snared her.

Catra unsheathes her claws to break through the net, but just as her eyes are recovering Glimmer throws another sparkle bomb in her face. Flailing blindly, Catra swipes at everything around her, but mostly just gets blanket. Something prods her back and a surge of electricity rushes through her, paralyzing her for a second before she goes limp in the netting.

“No!” Adora finally manages to speak as she sees Catra seize in the current and then collapse. Her eyes are huge, stomach lodged somewhere in her colon. Since when does the rebellion use stun guns?

The guards rush to restrain Catra before she can recover, ripping the net off her and wrangling her arms behind her back. One of them shoves her face into the mattress when she begins to struggle, and her blood runs cold. _Not again_. Thrashing desperately, she lets out a muffled scream as she tries to break free.

“Stop it! You’re hurting her!” Adora shoves away the nearest guard, and two more swiftly grab her arms and pull her away. “Hey, let go of me!” Their grips are tight, but Adora’s pretty sure she’s stronger than them. She could probably break away, but she’d injure them in the process. So she doesn’t. “She can’t breathe!”

The guards pay her no heed. The one holding Catra’s head doesn’t let go until they have her wrists and ankles bound securely. When he does release her, Catra’s head jerks up and she gasps noisily, a mixture of relief and hatred coursing through her veins. Panting hard, she shoots a withering glare at Glimmer. “Should’ve never trusted a princess to keep her word,” she snarls.

Adora’s heart squeezes at the words, at everything they imply. There’s a shadow of guilt in Glimmer’s expression, but she doesn’t back down. “I didn’t promise anything,” she says simply.

Catra growls as the guards lift her from the bed and begin to carry her away. The ones holding Adora release her, and she storms over to Glimmer. Her voice has gone dark and dangerous in a way Catra has never heard before when she says, “If they hurt her, I will never forgive you.”

Glimmer grasps Adora’s arm and pleads for understanding. “Adora, I’m the princess of Bright Moon. I’d be a traitor to my kingdom if I let the person who almost destroyed us roam free. She hurt us before, and she’ll hurt us again.”

“Oh, so you’ll betray me instead,” retorts Adora, knocking her hand away. “Nice. You really suck at being a friend sometimes, you know that?”

Catra can’t help her dark, nearly maniacal laugh. “That’s rich coming from you, Adora.”

Adora directs her piercing glare her way. “This is different.”

“Is it? What did you think was going to happen when I reported back to Shadow Weaver empty-handed after Thaymor? You’re so fucking clueless.” As they make it to the door, she tosses a sarcastic farewell over her shoulder. “Bye, Adora! Have fun with Sparkles.”

Adora’s chest clenches painfully as she watches Catra disappear in the hands of the guards. They were making progress. Talking, kissing. Things were finally going right. How did this happen? Even before the sneak attack, something went wrong. She did something wrong.

The feeling of Glimmer’s hand on her arm again makes Adora stiffen. “I don’t want to cause you pain, Adora,” she says earnestly. “But you’re not the only one capable of putting the greater good above your own needs.”

Adora zeroes in on her again, positively fuming. “Fuck you, Glimmer. This is nothing but selfish. You hate her.”

“Yeah, for good reason,” argues Glimmer. “You remember she kidnapped us and let Shadow Weaver torture me, right?”

Adora’s eyes fall to the floor with an ironic snort. “And I let Shadow Weaver torture her.”

Glimmer huffs under her breath and mutters so quietly Adora barely hears her. “Probably deserved it.”

Adora’s fist connects with Glimmer’s jaw before she realizes what’s happening. Even in her regular body she packs a punch, and Glimmer ends up sprawled on the floor five feet away. Adora’s mouth falls open with a gasp. “Oh, shit. Glimmer, I-”

“Save it, Adora.” Glimmer’s voice lacks emotion, but the betrayal and pain are clear in her tear-filled eyes as she teleports away.

“Shit.” Adora grimaces into her hands. Now she’s hurt her two closest friends, pushed them both away. All this time she was worried about the harm she could cause her friends as She-Ra, but she doesn’t need a magic sword to hurt them. All she needs is herself. That’s what she was trained to be all these years, after all. A weapon, a tool of destruction.

Dropping her hands with a sigh, Adora turns around to survey the damage. The first thing she notices after her shredded blanket is Catra’s discarded tank top on the floor. The Force Captain badge gleams in the moonlight and a sob catches in Adora’s throat. Scooping up the shirt, she buries her face in it, savoring the lingering body heat and the comforting scent of Catra’s skin and fur. Tears spring up in her eyes and she lets them seep into the fabric as she sinks down onto her bed.

Cradling the shirt like she yearns to cradle its owner, Adora fully breaks down. In the Horde you learn to cry silently so no one can see your weakness, but she can’t help the loud sobs that wrack her body now. What is she going to do? What will they do to Catra? She should have fought back against the guards, the rebellion be damned. That feeling of betrayal ignites in her gut again and she clenches her fists in the fabric. If they aren’t loyal to her, why should she be loyal to them? How can she trust these people ever-

Oh.

So this is how Catra feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll try to update this relatively soon but I have other fics on the go and real life stuff, so no promises. I hope this is satisfying enough to tide you all over until then.
> 
> Thanks to the brilliant ceruleanstorm for beta reading this for me. If you haven’t read her fic Upper West Side, go do that. I’m not usually into AUs but that one is great at addressing Adora and Catra’s trauma. Highly recommended!


	7. Self-Preservation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow my Adora POV chapters are even more heartbreaking than the Catra ones?
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for bullying, victim blaming, emotional and implied physical child abuse. It’s all in the flashback and the back half of it is quite intense, be warned. Who likes hurt/comfort with a large dose of “what the fuck this is horrifying”? Ta daaaa.

Adora hasn’t slept.

She could have. Large doses of the pain potion she’s been taking for her back will do the trick, knock her unconscious and leave her demons to torment her in her dreams rather than her conscious mind. It’s no more enjoyable, but a fitful sleep is better than no sleep.

Just not tonight.

Angella assured Adora nothing would happen to Catra overnight, told her to come back in the morning to talk. Adora had no choice but to obey the command, but she didn’t trust the promise. Not for a second. Besides, how could she sleep while Catra is in danger? How could she lay down in the warmth and safety of her bed when Catra is locked up in a cell somewhere? She can’t indulge in comforts while Catra suffers. It’s just more of the same.

If she could be there with her, she would. The guards wouldn’t even let Adora into the prison to see if she was okay. Queen’s orders. Angella demanded a cooling off period for everyone involved. That included Glimmer, who was already fuming by Angella’s side when Adora came looking for help. She wouldn’t even look Adora in the eye, and Adora was still angry enough at the time that she didn’t mind.

If cooling off means feeling guilty instead of angry, then it did the trick. Even with Catra, Adora has never fully punched a friend out of anger before. In sparring and combat she has, obviously, but that’s different. It’s not like that kind of behavior was discouraged in the Horde, but after seeing Shadow Weaver hit Catra the few times she did, Adora could never do the same. She punched other kids in defense of Catra on numerous occasions, though, so maybe it shouldn’t be surprising that that’s how she finally crossed the line and attacked a friend.

In defense of Catra. Adora snorts at the thought as she stalks toward the council room. All these years she tricked herself into thinking she was Catra’s knight in shining armor when really she was nothing but a cowering damsel. Memories have been plaguing her all night, mocking her for her naivety. Her complicity. Her selfishness.

Queen Angella is sitting in her chair when Adora arrives, chin resting on her folded hands. Clearing her throat into a clenched fist, Adora stands at attention. “Your Majesty.”

The queen’s eyes creak open, regarding Adora tiredly. “Adora. Have you slept?”

What a stupid question. Adora cocks her head as she approaches the table. “Could you, if you were me?”

Angella concedes the point with a thoughtful nod. “We’re very similar, aren’t we? Thoughts that don’t stop, a heavy conscience.”

“Fiercely protective of people we love, to the point that they resent it?” Adora’s arms cross protectively over her stomach, eyes falling to the table. “Yeah.”

A ghost of a smile appears on Angella’s lips, but it fades just as quickly. Sitting up straight, she pats the chair to her right. “Come, sit with me.”

Adora’s stomach gurgles in warning, but she has no choice, not if she wants the queen’s help. Clasping her trembling hands together, she rounds the table, spine rigid and head held high. She will take her punishment like the good soldier she is. She’ll take anything, so long as she can go see Catra afterwards. Easing herself down beside Angella, easily within arm’s reach, Adora eyes her warily. She’s pretty sure Angella isn’t like Shadow Weaver, but that doesn’t change the impulse to shrink into herself. Adora has to keep stilling her foot that wants to tap out an erratic rhythm. She wrings her fingers together to compensate, letting them go white in her lap under the table.

“I don’t know what to think, Adora,” Angella finally says, voice laden with disappointment. Adora swallows. “Just last week you defended this castle with your life, then last night my guards found you in bed with a Horde soldier.”

“We weren’t-” Adora’s cheeks flare up. “We were on my bed, but not like that. We were just kissing.”

That argument makes no impact on Angella’s expression. “So, my guards found you kissing a Horde soldier. A high-ranking one. In the castle, no less.”

Her shoulders hunch. “To be fair, it was Glimmer who brought her in in the first place.” Adora’s not usually a narc, but she doesn’t want Angella to think the lapse in security was her terrible idea.

“I know,” Angella says dryly. “She’s grounded.” Her eyes float away as she muses, “But you are not my child to punish.”

That never stopped Shadow Weaver, but Adora’s grateful for Angella’s logic. Still, she can’t help feeling she’s not off the hook yet. She shifts in her seat. “So, um…”

“I must be frank with you, Adora,” declares Angella. “You may be She-Ra, but you only just left the Horde. Your actions are making people doubt your loyalty to the rebellion.”

Adora snorts under her breath. “Seems loyalty isn’t something I’m great at.”

The queen’s gaze turns icy. “This isn’t a joke.”

“I’m not joking.” Adora sighs into her palms. “Catra’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember. It was always the two of us against the world. And I left her behind.” Adora shakes her head, rolling her eyes at herself. “I didn’t even think about what would happen to her if I refused to go home. All I cared about was feeling like I did the right thing.” Scoffing darkly, she mutters, “Doing the right thing can be a real cop out sometimes.”

Angella’s expression turns sympathetic, much to Adora’s relief. “It’s quite a tricky situation you’re in. I can appreciate that,” she says carefully, finishing with a tight smile.

Apprehension floods Adora’s veins. “Is it about to get trickier?”

Eyes flitting away, Angella taps her nails on the table. “Word is already spreading of the Force Captain’s capture. People lost their homes in the attack she led, and many more have lost their lives to the Horde over the years.” Meeting Adora’s gaze, she states, “You remember the reaction when you first arrived in Bright Moon, before we found out you were She-Ra.”

Adora can feel her temperature rising. “So Catra’s going to be punished for the sins of the evil people who raised her?”

“Only for hers,” Angella assures her. “But I’m warning you, the people of Bright Moon won’t be inclined to be merciful. They will expect justice.”

“Justice?” scoffs Adora. “Your Majesty, Catra has never been shown mercy, not once in her life. She was the only one of her kind in the Horde, and she’s been bullied since she was a little kid. The closest person we had to a mother blamed her for everything that went wrong. She humiliated her every chance she got. She tortured her for stupid reasons, things that - things that weren’t even her fault.” Adora’s voice nearly cracks, and she swallows hard. “Suffering’s all Catra’s ever known. And that’s not fair. You want justice to be served? Start with justice for her.”

The queen looks genuinely affected, but her lips remain set in a firm line. “You make a moving case, Adora. But her crimes still need to be atoned for.”

“Okay, well what about restora- um, restored justice? We’re supposed to be the good guys, aren’t we?”

Angella purses her lips. “Restorative justice requires willing participation from the guilty party.”

“Then I’ll make her participate,” growls Adora. “I’ll make her see reason.”

“Even if you could, what makes you think we can trust her?” The impulse to respond leaves Adora’s mouth hanging open as she struggles to find an answer. Angella shakes her head but keeps her tone soft as she warns her, “Your love for her is clouding your judgement, Adora.”

“You’re damn right it is.” Adora crosses her arms, jaw set in determination. “I’ll do anything I need to to protect her.”

The queen raises an eyebrow. “Anything?”

For all of Adora’s posturing, the question gives her pause. Would she betray the rebellion? Would she risk hurting Bright Moon guards breaking Catra out? Would she risk hurting Glimmer? She regrets not fighting back against the guards last night. She also regrets hurting Glimmer. But what she regrets most of all, the one thing that hurts her heart like no other, is standing by while harm comes to Catra.

As Adora meets Angella’s eyes, her blind aggression morphs into true confidence. The rebellion needs She-Ra. She can leverage that. And if she can’t, they’re gonna have to put up one hell of a fight.

“Please don’t make me do something I don’t want to do,” she says. “I didn’t do enough to protect her when we were children. I need to now. I owe her that.”

_Adora’s fingers twirled through Catra’s unruly mane again and again, her other arm holding Catra tight to her chest. “We can’t stay here forever.”_

_“Why not?” Catra mumbled into her neck._

_“We’ll miss training, and Shadow Weaver will be mad, and she’ll come looking for us,” Adora answered matter-of-factly. Catra’s lips morphed into a scowl against Adora’s skin, but she didn’t reply. Opting for more immediate logic, Adora added, “Plus, I dunno about you, but I’m getting kinda hungry.”_

_Catra stubbornly stayed a lump in Adora’s lap, tiny limbs tightening around her waist and neck. “Five more minutes.”_

_“We’re already late,” said Adora. “The longer we wait, the more they’ll make fun of you for being scared.”_

_Catra growled in protest. “I’m not scared.”_

_“But it’ll look like you are,” Adora deflected, knowing better than to argue with Catra about that. “Better to show up and act like it didn’t bother you.”_

_“Or maybe they’ll already be gone.” There was a hopeful tinge in Catra’s voice that made Adora relent with a sigh._

_“Fine, five more minutes.”_

_Catra settled into her again, nuzzling her cheek in appreciation and even giving it a little lick. Adora made a face because that was the script they always followed, but her cheek burned where the kitten’s raspy tongue had dragged over it. The blush quickly spread to her ears and neck and she cleared her throat, hoping to ward off the unpleasant sensation._

_It took a few minutes for Adora’s blush to fade enough for her to risk Catra seeing her face. Once she felt sufficiently recovered, she started rubbing Catra’s back and told her, “I’ll be with you the whole time. If anyone tries anything, I’ll tell them to shove off. You know that.” Catra acknowledged this with a grunt and Adora smiled, giving her scalp an affectionate scratch. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”_

_“Fiiiine,” Catra relented, heaving a dramatic sigh as she slid off Adora’s lap. Offering a hand, she pulled Adora up from their bunk and turned for the door. “Let’s go get you your damn dinner. I swear to Hordak you’d keel over and die if you ever missed a meal.”_

_There was a slight edge in Catra’s tone that made Adora’s eyes drop. That was a common way Shadow Weaver punished cadets who misbehaved or underperformed (which was ironic, given how she always ordered Adora to finish everything on her tray because she couldn’t perform well on an empty stomach). Catra didn’t underperform much, despite what Shadow Weaver seemed to think, but misbehaving was pretty much her default state. Purring wasn’t the only kind of rumbling Adora was used to hearing from the foot of her bed._

_Frowning at the floor, Adora scolded her, “Don’t say that, it’s a bad word.”_

_“Meal?”_

_When Adora looked up, she found a very familiar glint of mischief in Catra’s eyes. Giving her a little shove, she said, “No, the D word.”_

_Lips stretching in a wide grin, Catra nudged her ribs and drawled, “You’re Adora-ble. You can’t even say it.”_

_“Can too.”_

_“Oh yeah?” Catra swung around to walk backwards in front of her, poking her in the shoulder. “I’ll bet you next week’s latrine duty.”_

_Adora scowled and swatted her hand away. “I’m not going to say it.”_

_“Why? ‘Cause that would be baaaad?” Adora averted her eyes, refusing to dignify that with a response. But Catra kept pressing, tipping her head as she mocked her, “Scared Spooky Shadows will call you a bad girl? Oh no, not that!”_

_“Shut up!” snapped Adora, shoving her harder this time. “Damn you, Catra.”_

_Catra’s lips curled in a proud smile, and Adora tried and failed not to blush again. “I knew you had it in you.”_

_Adora huffed sheepishly, scratching at her flushed neck. “Yeah, you can gloat all you want while you’re busy scrubbing toilets.”_

_Catra cackled, slinging an arm around her shoulders as she fell into step beside her. “Totally worth it.”_

_The teasing continued as they made their way to the mess hall, devolving into hair-pulling play fights a couple of times. That was just part of how they interacted, always had been. It’s not like the Horde discouraged aggression, anyway. No one minded a couple of eight year-olds tussling in the hallways, so long as they didn’t break anything. But as they got closer to their destination, Catra got quieter. Her gait stiffened and she linked her fingers with Adora’s. Adora gave her hand a reassuring squeeze but didn’t say anything. Calling attention to Catra’s anxiety was a good way to get her head bitten off. Not literally. Well, probably not._

_“Catra!”_

_The sharp bite of Shadow Weaver’s voice made both girls jump. Adora’s eyes snapped up to their commanding officer looming in the large doors of the mess hall. Catra dropped her hand and darted away, but she got no more than five feet before Shadow Weaver caught her in a red bolt of magic. The sorceress turned her around with a spin of her hand as she approached, and Adora’s chest ached when she saw the sheer terror on Catra’s face, the quivering of her lips and pallor of her skin. Catra’s eyes flitted helplessly over to Adora as Shadow Weaver leaned down and replaced her magical grip with a hand tight on Catra’s jaw._

_“I just saw Lorena’s face. Brady’s arms. What in the name of Hordak is the matter with you, child?” Her nails made little indents in Catra’s skin as she berated her, turning the surrounding skin white._

_“I- they were-” Catra shrunk into herself, tail lashing anxiously behind her._

_“Speak up, you worthless runt!”_

_Catra’s jaw clenched, eyes flashing. “Five of them grabbed me. I was just trying to defend myself.”_

_Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed behind her mask, but her voice was eerily calm as she restated, “So they grabbed you with their hands and you retaliated with your claws?”_

_“They were hurting me! I was scared! What did you want me to do?”_

_“I wanted you not to behave like some kind of wild beast,” snapped Shadow Weaver, “but I should have known that was too much to expect from an animal like you.”_

_Eyes falling, Catra barely muttered, “They’re the animals.”_

_“What did you say?” There was a distinct threat in Shadow Weaver’s voice as she straightened up, towering over Catra ominously._

_Catra’s fists balled at her sides, a display of defiance that did little to mask her fear. “This isn’t fair! Why am I always the one who gets in trouble?”_

_Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Adora spoke up before she could lash out. “Shadow Weaver-”_

_“Stay out of this, Adora,” Shadow Weaver barked, not bothering to look her way. “This does not concern you.”_

_Adora’s eyes flicked back and forth between them, mouth hanging open in indecision. Her best friend, trembling but eyeing her with a flicker of hope. Her commanding officer, glaring down at Catra with disdain. It took a few seconds for Shadow Weaver to turn that glare on Adora, and those searing ovals of white sent a jolt of fear straight down her spine._

_“That’s an order,” Shadow Weaver commanded, with a harshness she rarely ever directed at Adora. Adora’s mouth snapped shut and she automatically stood at attention. Shadow Weaver’s flaming gaze lingered on her a terrifying second longer before returning to Catra. “As for you, we’re going for a walk. A long walk.”_

_Catra deflated. “Why?” she whimpered, looking so drained and hopeless. “What did I do? What did you expect me to do?”_

_“You’re pathetic,” huffed Shadow Weaver. “You can’t even take responsibility for your own actions, can you?” Grasping one of Catra’s ears in an iron grip, she got down in her face and assured her, “You will suffer the consequences all the same.”_

_“No!” shrieked Catra, reaching back as Shadow Weaver yanked her backwards and dragged her away. “Adora! Adora!”_

_Adora was paralyzed with fear, face frozen and feet rooted into the floor. She wanted to help, she did, but her body refused, too preoccupied with self-preservation. As Catra’s screams faded with distance, she shook the fog from her head. Told herself she would’ve only made it worse if she’d tried to intervene. She knew that was true. It didn’t make the scene any easier to stomach._

_Adora spent the rest of the night fighting a queasy feeling in her gut. She was still wide awake when Catra returned well after lights out, thanks to that feeling and the lack of heat and pressure on her feet. Catra must have thought everyone was asleep, though, because she tiptoed across the floor and slipped onto the bunk with hardly a rustle. Adora was just starting to smile with relief when she felt a tiny shiver in the warm mass barely touching her feet._

_Her brow furrowed. Catra was usually warm enough with just her fur unless she was sick or hungry, but she did miss dinner. Adora was about to ask if she wanted to share the blanket when she heard a muted whimper and froze. She had to listen for a bit to be sure. By that age Catra had learned to cry all but silently, like a good soldier. After a few moments she fully curled into herself and her body lost contact with Adora’s, but her sobs were hard enough to shake the bunk. Adora’s throat ached._

_“Catra,” she said. Catra went completely silent, though Adora could still feel some quivers echoing through the bed. “Catra, c’mere.” Nothing happened. “Please,” she insisted._

_There was a long pause before she felt the mattress shift and Catra began to crawl up the bed. She sprawled on her stomach beside Adora, tears in her glowing eyes. Adora reached for her on instinct, gentle fingers stroking the top of her head. When they wandered over to rub behind one of her ears, another, louder sob erupted from her chest. “Shh, it’s okay now,” whispered Adora. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”_

_It took a moment for Catra to reign it back in, going still and quiet but for a few weak shivers and sniffles. Adora’s fingers absentmindedly brushed through her mane as she offered, “I saved you half a ration bar. You hungry?”_

_Hoarding or redistributing rations was very much against the rules, and Adora wasn’t much of a rule-breaker, but her guilt had forced her to make an exception that night. Forced her to tuck the half-eaten bar into her waistband and count on her baby fat to hide it. She’d felt like all eyes were on her as she smuggled it out, cheeks burning and little legs carrying her as fast as they could._

_Catra slowly shook her head under Adora’s hand, and Adora frowned. “You sure?” Catra grunted the affirmative. The refusal left Adora feeling empty. Useless. Settling on an alternative, she tugged at the blanket pinned under Catra’s body. “Wanna share?”_

_Catra didn’t answer that one verbally, but after a couple seconds she pushed up onto all fours and then shifted her limbs around, allowing Adora to pull the blanket out from under her. Adora couldn’t help her sigh of relief when Catra laid her head down on her chest, arm draping over her ribs as Adora wrapped the blanket around them both. Now Adora could reach her with both hands, and she eagerly set to work raking her nails softly over Catra’s scalp. Catra nuzzled deeper into her chest, silent tears soaking her shirt. She clutched at Adora tightly, her claws digging in a little. Adora didn’t mind. If she’d had claws she would have sunken them into Catra too. Held her so tightly that no one could hurt her ever again._

_One of Adora’s hands moved to cradle the back of Catra’s head, then meandered down to her neck. Fingers tangling in Catra’s thick hair, she rubbed at the ropes of muscle flanking her spine, slowly working her way down. When she reached the base of Catra’s neck, Catra reached back and caught her hand, put it back on top of her head with a playful purr. Adora chuckled and obeyed, giving her an affectionate scratch between the ears. The purring continued, softer now. Adora’s lips turned up, but her mind was still troubled._

_“What happened?” whispered Adora. The quiet rumbling ceased, and Adora felt Catra’s throat constrict in a swallow against her chest. She answered with only a slight shake of her head. Adora’s throat cramped in sympathy, affecting her voice with a slight warble as she asked, “Don’t want to talk about it?” Catra shook her head again._

It was always like that. Adora would ask, and Catra wouldn’t answer. Eventually Adora stopped asking. She wishes she hadn’t. She was always stubborn to a fault, why couldn’t she have been more stubborn in her concern? Maybe Catra was right, maybe she really didn’t want to know.

“Adora, are you alright?”

Adora blinks up to Queen Angella with stinging eyes and finds her looking on with obvious concern. Adora shoots her an incredulous look through her tears and she clarifies, “I mean do I need to get you to the infirmary.”

“What are your healers going to do?” snarks Adora. “Give me some numbing potion for my insides?” Her stomach clenches as soon as the words pass her lips. That isn’t how one speaks to authority figures. Then again, being a good girl has never helped her, not when it comes to protecting Catra. Only herself.

Angella stiffens and her voice goes cold. “You were looking a little faint. I see now that you’re perfectly conscious. Forgive me for offering such hospitality in my own castle.”

 _Oh, fuck._ Adora snaps into a straight posture, but she can’t hold the queen’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I didn’t… I didn’t mean that.”

A lengthy silence passes, and Adora can’t help holding her breath. “I understand,” Angella says eventually. “You’re under a lot of stress.”

A sigh of relief passes Adora’s lips and she drags a hand through her bedraggled bangs, daring to meet Angella’s eyes again. “Your Majesty, please,” she implores. “Help me. I don’t want to resort to more betrayal.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Angella warns her. “It’s too soon to say what will happen.”

“Then just help me now. Leave Catra locked up while you figure things out, I get that, but let me stay with her. I need to make sure she’s okay.” Her eyes drop to the table, hands fidgeting in her lap. “Besides, I deserve it as much as she does.”

A hand coming to rest on her shoulder surprises her, and she looks up to find compassion in the queen’s eyes. “I know you have a hard time with this, Adora,” Angella says carefully, “but Catra is not your responsibility. Her choices are her own, and no one but her can answer for them.”

Thinking on that a moment, Adora concludes, “You’re right. Logically, I know this isn’t my fault. But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

“I see.”

“It’s… it’s complicated.” Adora’s hand drags through her hair again. “You don’t understand how she grew up. Even I don’t really understand it, but I’m starting to.” Her jaw twitches. “Shadow Weaver took everything out on Catra, punished her for things I did. I owe her one. I owe her more than one.”

Angella seems to take her time absorbing this, her eyes floating away as she drums her nails on the table again. After what appears to be a moment’s indecision, she meets Adora’s gaze and tells her, “Micah studied under Light Spinner when he was young. In Mystacor.”

Mouth falling open, Adora’s eyelids flutter with disbelief. She stares dumbly at Angella for a moment, until it occurs to her what she’s trying to say. “So… you already know how she was.”

“Micah’s memories of her were mostly positive, actually,” says Angella. “He was her favorite student.”

“Then there’s probably a lot he missed,” snorts Adora. She would know.

“And things he didn’t,” Angella informs her, a hint of a warning in her tone. Adora makes her face go blank and she nods approvingly, then continues, “He noticed she favored talented students, but also human students. And he thought that strange, given she wasn’t fully human herself.”

Adora blinks. “She wasn’t?”

Angella hums pensively. “He assumed she was a hybrid of some kind. She never showed her face, and there was something strange about the shape of her ears. And her skin had a green tinge.”

“Always looked more gray to me,” remarks Adora.

“That might have had something to do with the accident,” muses Angella. “It changed her appearance.”

Adora’s forehead crinkles. “Accident? Is that how she got the scars?”

Angella nods. “Micah was there when she tried to take power for herself. He botched the spell when he felt how dark the magic was, and the shadows overtook her.” Eyes flicking up to the mural of Micah behind her, she says, “Agreeing to help her was his deepest regret. If he’d known she defected to the Horde, it would’ve broken his heart.”

“He blamed himself,” murmurs Adora. She snorts inwardly. “I know how he felt.”

“As do I,” says the queen. When Adora eyes her curiously, she sighs. “Micah perished in a battle that I ordered. I’ve never forgiven myself. So please believe me when I say that I can understand your need to protect your loved ones above all else.” Raising a cautionary eyebrow, she adds, “But I also understand that Catra is a danger to my kingdom. I can’t just let her go free.”

If Adora’s being honest, she doesn’t really want Catra to go free. She doesn’t want her locked up in the prison, but she doesn’t want her to leave, either. Cheeks burning with shame, she banishes those thoughts. Keeping Catra against her will is no way to hold on to her. She’s already been locked up enough for a lifetime.

“I know,” is all Adora says.

That hand returns to her shoulder. “If it puts your mind at rest, I will go to the prison and reinforce my orders in person. No harm will come to her, at least not for now.”

“Thank you,” mutters Adora. It’s better than nothing.

“I’ll also take the opportunity to speak with her.” Adora’s eyes jump up to the queen in surprise and find her wearing a small, hopeful smile. “We haven’t had a chance to get acquainted yet. Perhaps there is some potential for restorative justice, as you suggested.”

For the first time since last night, Adora can breathe. Really, truly breathe.

“Thank you,” she repeats, much more emphatically this time. She squeezes Angella’s wrist to convey her sincerity, tears of relief and gratitude welling up in her eyes. “When can I see her?”

“When I’m through with her,” says Angella. Making pointed eye contact, she adds, “But first, I think there’s someone else you need to speak with.”

“Yeah,” sighs Adora, shoulders slumping. “There is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I was going to have Adora’s conversations with Angella and Glimmer in the same chapter but that flashback got a little out of hand lengthwise. So, looks like you guys get a bonus chapter where Glimmadora air their grievances. It also will allow me to take a different tack on it and focus on some other themes.
> 
> I… really like this chapter? Yeah this is more of a Catra fic, but I enjoy exploring Adora’s side of things as the favored child who was aware of the abuse to some extent and was afraid of resisting authority lest she end up in the same position. And her shame for that as an adult, even if it’s undeserved. Catra’s not the only one who was traumatized by growing up in an abusive environment and feeling unsafe.


	8. Ears to Hear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re back with some more Adora POV! Time for Glimmadora to have a much needed chat...
> 
> WARNING: The flashback in this chapter (and the paragraphs directly following it) contains some very dark subject matter, some of it things the fic has already touched on and some of it not, and as usual it’s discussed very bluntly. My apologies for the vagueness, but I can’t give a proper content warning without spoiling a lot this time. So like I did in chapter 4, I’m going to leave the detailed content warning in the chapter end notes. Check down there before reading if you are concerned about triggers.

Adora’s stomach gurgles as she approaches Glimmer’s door. Swallowing hard, she tries to settle her nerves. Unfortunately, that’s not all she has to get under control. While her guilt is by far the most troublesome emotion right now, weighing heavy on her body and soul, there’s a tightness residing in her muscles that can only be anger. She’s ultimately the one who needs to be sorry, the one who struck the hardest blow, literally and figuratively. But Glimmer’s betrayal is still fresh, and it caused the turmoil she’s currently suffering. Her somewhat successful meeting with Angella could only do so much to remedy that.

Squeezing and relaxing her fists several times, Adora rolls her shoulders and pushes out a slow breath. Then she gives the door a few solid knocks.

There’s a brief lull before Adora hears a quiet and bleary “Who is it?”

Adora scoffs bitterly. Of course Glimmer was able to sleep. No one she cares about is in danger.

“It’s Adora,” she answers, consciously softening her tone. Her stomach bucks when Glimmer doesn’t reply. After a few seconds she tries, “Can I come in?”

“If you want.”

Adora gulps and enters the room, easing the door shut behind her. Eyes flicking up to Glimmer’s bed, she finds her friend peering over the edge. Her shoulders are slumped and her eyes are weary, and Adora blinks in surprise. Whether she slept or not, Glimmer looks exhausted, and that fatigue carries over to her voice. “What are you doing here, Adora?”

Scratching her head, Adora mutters, “I, uh, I came to apologize.” Climbing the floating steps to Glimmer’s bed, she awkwardly settles down a foot away. “Look, I’m really, really sorry I hit you. In the Horde, that’s how we deal with anger. Hitting things. Not usually people, for me. But if I can’t control it…” Adora’s eyes flick away in shame. “It’s a bad habit I need to break. I’m sorry.”

Eyes on the mattress, Glimmer’s mouth twitches. “If someone said something like that about Bow I probably would’ve hit them too.”

The lack of an actual apology makes Adora snort under her breath, but her lips also turn up the slightest bit. Her two best friends are so similar in some ways it’s uncanny.

“I know,” she replies gently. “You don’t suck at being a friend.” When Glimmer looks up in surprise, she gives her forearm a light squeeze. “I know you worry about that, but I said it anyway.” Adora’s brow furrows as she frowns down at her lap. “I’m sorry, I’m never mean like that. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do,” mutters Glimmer. “You love her.”

Adora’s breath catches. Can everyone see right through her? “That’s no excuse.” Drawing her hand back, she pulls her knees tight into her chest. “Light Hope was right. All I do is hurt the people I care about.”

“Adora, you didn’t make Catra come here,” Glimmer reminds her, rolling her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you this isn’t your fault?”

The ire simmering in Adora’s gut bubbles to the surface and she levels a piercing glare at Glimmer. “You’re right, it’s not my fault. It’s yours.”

Glimmer’s eyes narrow. “Hey-”

“Why did you do that?” Adora demands, straightening back up. “She wasn’t here to attack us!”

“How do you know?” counters Glimmer. “You keep saying she’s tricky and you can’t always tell what she’s thinking. What makes you think you knew this time?”

“Because we were finally getting somewhere-”

Glimmer snorts. “Yeah, that much was clear.”

“Don’t change the subject,” scowls Adora. “She wasn’t here for peace talks, exactly, but I was getting through to her. She wouldn’t have let me touch her if I hadn’t won back a bit of her trust. Then your people stormed in and destroyed all that. There’s no way she’ll join the rebellion now.”

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Glimmer says, “Adora, I have more important things to worry about than convincing your psycho ex-girlfriend to join my cause. Like protecting my kingdom from people like her.”

Feeling her face flush, Adora growls into her collar. “She’s not psycho and she’s not my ex-girlfriend.”

“So you’re still together?”

“Glimmer!”

“What?” Glimmer asks flatly, doing her best to keep any expression off her face.

It’s that aloofness that really gets to Adora. Usually Glimmer’s regal status doesn’t show through, but now her cold tone and distant gaze betray her upbringing. What a high and mighty spoiled brat.

Adora scoffs. “You really don’t think you have anything to apologize for, do you?”

After a moment’s thought, Glimmer admits, “I’m sorry that this hurts you.” When Adora snorts, Glimmer narrows her eyes. “Look, I understand why you feel betrayed,” she continues earnestly. “I get why you’re angry, I do.”

“But you didn’t do anything wrong, is that it?” Folding her arms, Adora lifts her chin defiantly. “Nothing at all?”

A faint shadow of guilt crosses Glimmer’s face. “Fine. Catra probably didn’t deserve to be tortured,” she mutters, gesturing dismissively. “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.”

“You’re such a dick,” scoffs Adora.

“I thought that was kind of your thing,” Glimmer remarks.

Raking a hand through her hair, Adora takes a deep breath to settle herself. After a moment she forces herself to meet Glimmer’s gaze again. “If you really are sorry that you hurt me, then make it better.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” she insists. “We can still fix this. You can teleport her out.”

“Even if I wanted to, I really couldn’t,” says Glimmer. “Everyone would know it was me.”

“So what? Bright Moon isn’t going to turn on its beloved princess,” argues Adora. “But they’d turn on an ex-Horde soldier, even if she’s She-Ra.” Eyes falling to her fidgeting hands, she barely gets out a pathetic “I don’t want to leave here.”

“You sure?” Glimmer’s eyebrow is about halfway up her forehead. “Kinda seems to me you’d love to run away with Catra. What do you need Bright Moon for?”

Legitimately caught off guard, Adora stutters, “M-my friends are here. I’m doing good work here.”

“Uh huh.”

Arms crossing defensively, Adora spouts, “What, do you suddenly not like She-Ra?”

“I don’t like that She-Ra cares more about someone who’s bad for her, who keeps trying to kill her, than she does about her actual friends.”

A frustrated laugh pops out of Adora’s lungs, bitter on her tongue. “You sound like Catra. It’s not about who I care about more, Glimmer. Why can’t you guys understand that?” Glimmer scowls and opens her mouth, but Adora cuts her off before she can answer. “And if you think she’s so bad for me, why did you bring her up here in the first place?”

Glimmer’s mouth twitches, eyes flicking away. “Because I thought you needed closure. You were really upset after the temple and, no offense, but you’re kind of obsessed with her.”

“I am not obsessed with her,” scoffs Adora. Glimmer gives her a _look_ and her fists clench, cheeks burning hot. “I’m not!”

Chuckling darkly, Glimmer mutters, “Whatever you say, Adora.”

Taking a moment to let her blush die down and collect her thoughts, Adora resorts to begging. “Glimmer, please. Do this, for me. Your mom said she’d see what she can do, but I can’t take any chances. I’m not convinced she’ll actually protect her when it comes down to it.”

“And why should she?” demands Glimmer. “For that matter, why should I? Give me one good reason, other than making you feel better.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Adora quietly reminds her, “She let you go, once.”

Glimmer’s eyes narrow. “Only because I was with you. You do realize that, right? She wasn’t showing me mercy because she felt like it.”

That’s unfortunately true. Catra didn’t even let Glimmer go because she wanted to show Adora mercy. Or if she did, she wouldn’t admit to it.

 _“This is_ not _because I like you.”_

No, she did it to protect her own interests, because her life was apparently so horrible with Adora in it that it was better to cut her loose. Literally.

_“I didn’t want you to come back, Adora!”_

Shaking off those unhelpful thoughts, Adora asks, “So what? She still let you go.”

“It’s not the same,” huffs Glimmer. 

“Why?”

“Because she actually deserves it.”

Adora stiffens, another wave of anger rising in her chest. “You have no right to say that. You don’t understand-”

“You’re right, I don’t,” interjects Glimmer. The hurt in her voice gives Adora pause. “I don’t understand how you can forgive someone who did so much to hurt people you claim to care about. I don’t understand why you’re so bent on saving someone who doesn’t want to be saved. It’s like you think she’s this precious little kitten who’s never done a thing wrong in her life and needs to be protected at all costs.”

“Oh, she’s definitely done things wrong,” Adora chuckles darkly. “But she didn’t deserve how much she suffered for it.”

Glimmer cocks an eyebrow. “So that gives her a free pass now?”

“No,” protests Adora. Her hands suddenly need to find something to do. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” presses Glimmer. “Catra’s owed some kind of debt by the universe and it’s up to us to pay it to her because we’re the good guys?”

“If we are the good guys, we’ll show compassion.” Staring at her lap, Adora gives a resigned headshake. “If not, I don’t know what we are.”

“Responsible. Not idiots,” says Glimmer. “I am not gonna get taken advantage of just because you think Catra deserved a better childhood.”

“She did,” snaps Adora. “Catra didn’t deserve what happened to her. She didn’t deserve to be abused and humiliated and ground down into nothing until she hated herself. Just like you didn’t deserve to live in a palace and be waited on hand and foot since birth.”

Glimmer’s eyes narrow in warning. “I didn’t deserve a dead father either.”

“Neither of us had a mother or a father,” counters Adora. “I know she can be a lot, but at least you have a mother who loves you. We only had Shadow Weaver.”

“Okay fine, Adora,” concedes Glimmer, rolling her eyes dramatically. “My life has been so much easier than yours, I get it. You happy now?”

“No,” mumbles Adora, eyes flitting away. “You’ll never be able to understand.”

Glimmer’s hand grasps her forearm with a gentle but insistent squeeze, and there’s a challenge in her eyes when Adora grudgingly meets them. “Try me.”

“I have tried! I talk and I talk and you don’t hear me, you don’t even try.” Looking to the heavens, she huffs in frustration. “Gods, why do I keep getting stuck with people like this? You’re just as difficult as her, I swear to Hordak.” Frowning suddenly, she blinks hard and catches Glimmer’s gaze. “The First Ones, I mean.”

Glimmer stares back blankly. “You sure about that?”

Struck by a sudden bout of dizziness, it takes Adora a few seconds to ask, “Are you calling me a traitor?” Glimmer doesn’t reply. She doesn’t have to. Adora’s fists tighten. “I have given everything to the rebellion. I gave up my whole life to come fight for you because I wanted to do good. How does wanting the one good thing from my old life make me a traitor?”

“It’s not the wanting, Adora. It’s not even the _doing_ ,” Glimmer adds with another eye roll. “It’s your priorities. You’ve always been all about the greater good, and I respect that, and how you gave up everything. But this isn’t for the greater good, and you know it.”

Adora scowls and crosses her arms but can’t hold Glimmer’s gaze as she deflects, “You guys keep telling me I need to take care of myself and not worry about the greater good.”

“Cutting yourself some slack is not the same as releasing a dangerous criminal to ease your guilty conscience,” Glimmer spells out. Her gaze hardens. “If you’re okay with putting all of Bright Moon in danger just because you feel bad for Catra, then maybe you shouldn’t be here anyway.”

Adora’s jaw tightens. So much for loyalty. So much for friendship. Now she really does understand how Catra felt that day in Thaymor. Her face burns from shame as much as anger. Her eyes sting but she doesn’t blink as she stares Glimmer down.

“Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t.”

***

Eyes hard and glazed over, Adora gazes out over the kingdom she’s come to call home. Far below her the residents go about their mornings, blissfully ignorant of her inner turmoil. She’s supposed to be this amazing god-like guardian, protector of the masses, savior of the planet. It’s not like She-Ra can have bad days. She-Ra can’t let selfish motives distract her, can’t show weakness, can’t fail in her sacred duty. But how can She-Ra protect the masses when she can’t even protect one person? How can She-Ra be successful when the girl behind her feels like such a massive failure?

A light breeze tickles Adora’s face and she leans into it unconsciously, letting the balcony railing take her weight. The familiar sensation is bittersweet, reminding her of better times that are lost to her forever. And some times that weren’t so great, but she wishes she could have back anyway.

When Catra was upset, Adora could almost always find her perched on a railing somewhere. Seeing her best friend so casually balancing inches from oblivion always made Adora a little nervous, even once she got used to it and knew Catra wouldn’t fall, not unless she wanted to. One could hardly blame Adora for her anxiety on the matter, given Catra’s self-destructive impulses.

_Heart racing and throat aching, Adora trudged back indoors. Her skin was clammy, and not just from the summer heat and ever-present smog blanketing the Fright Zone. All the outdoor railings were unoccupied, every single building. She’d even climbed up the crane that towered over the compound, her gangly tween limbs fumbling and aching, but Catra was nowhere to be found._

_Sometimes Catra just wanted to be alone, and that was understandable. The Fright Zone was noisy and the barracks was crowded, and it could be hard to find the space to breathe or think. Adora craved solitude too, at times. But this disappearance had her worried._

_People made fun of Catra. Humans, in particular. It was a fact of life, something they’d gotten used to over the years, but that didn’t mean it’d gotten any easier. Catra was better at pretending not to care these days, but she was even harder to console once she was alone with Adora. She’d always had a thin skin, but it’d been easier not to give a crap what anyone thought when they were just a couple of goofy kids._

_It was different now, on the cusp of adolescence, when everyone was suddenly hyperaware of their own bodies and everyone else’s. Even Adora was faring badly in that awkward stage. She’d shot up over 6 inches in less than a year and was suddenly clumsy to a humiliating degree. Tripping over her own feet, fumbling and dropping her spear, being reamed out for her carelessness in front of everyone and made to run extra laps on already sore legs. The mirror was an enemy, even when Shadow Weaver insisted she looked just fine and scolded her for worrying about such nonsense. It was more reassuring when Catra would tell her she wasn’t ugly, call her a dummy and flick her pimply forehead with one of her claws._

_“Well, not for a human, anyway,” she’d joked once with that toothy grin of hers, but her laughter was a little too emphatic and her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Adora may have never been a genius with social cues, but she knew Catra. It was hard for her too. Both of them stood out, in one way or another. But they had each other to lean on, and that was enough._

_Or at least, it was supposed to be._

_Catra’s disappearance had put Adora in the awkward position of lying to cover for her when she failed to report for afternoon classes, but Adora’s irritation paled in comparison to her concern. Her fear. Though Catra had a habit of showing up late in the morning unless Adora literally dragged her out of bed, she never skipped classes, not back then. And the circumstances under which she fled were troubling, to say the least._

__* __

_Frowning at her mottled reflection, Adora smoothed some flyaway strands back into her ponytail and tossed her paper towel in the trash. With one last scowl at the mirror, she exited the bathroom and hustled toward the training rooms. Lunch break was almost over, and she had a perfect attendance record to keep up. It was the only thing she could do right these days, it seemed._

_Her brooding was interrupted by the sound of a blow and a grunt from around the corner up ahead. “Not so tough without your bodyguard, are you?” asked a female voice. The question was followed by a high-pitched yelp that Adora recognized immediately. As she broke into a sprint, she heard Catra’s muffled voice followed by a cruel laugh and even crueler words. “You go fuck_ your _self. It’s not like anyone else ever will, kitty with no titties.”_

_“Unless they have an ear fetish,” another voice piped up as Adora rounded the corner. “Can you fly with these things?” the girl asked, holding the tips of Catra’s ears and flapping them mockingly. The girl’s friend had Catra in a tight headlock from behind. Both of them were significantly taller and older, fifteen at least. Maybe that’s why they were using words Adora didn’t understand. She only knew ‘fuck’ as a curse, and as for ‘fetish’… who the hell knew what that meant?_

_Catra growled and swatted away the intrusive hands, but didn’t dig in her claws. They were unsheathed, but it was an empty threat. She didn’t ever bite or use her claws in fights, hadn’t for years. It had only ever gotten her more grief, from bullies and Shadow Weaver alike. As much as Adora had tried to block out the memory of that day outside the mess hall, it wasn’t something easily forgotten._

_“Just keep your weird ugly eyes off our asses, you fucking freak,” the girl holding Catra spat into her ear, and fire sparked in Adora’s already roiling belly._

_“Get away from her!” she yelled as she grabbed the closest assailant from behind, ripping her off of Catra. Adora had lost some strength in the growth spurt, but she still had enough to best an older cadet caught by surprise, send her flying._

_Sensing an opening, Catra stomped on the other girl’s foot, grabbed the arm around her neck and flipped her over her back. The bully slammed into the ground with a thud and a groan, and Adora promptly bent over and pulled her up by the front of her shirt._

_“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” she demanded, heedless of the fact that she herself was still several inches shorter._

_The girl’s eyes, previously wide with surprise, narrowed in disgust. “Why don’t_ you _find someone your own species?”_

_“Huh?”_

_In her confusion Adora had let her grip loosen, and the girl jerked out of her grasp. Throwing a smirk Catra’s way, she remarked, “Guess I was wrong. Gross.” Her friend marched up beside her, fists clenching, but she held her back. “Forget it,” she told her. “The furry and her pet aren’t worth it.”_

_Downright bewildered at that point, it took Adora a few seconds to form even a weak response as they walked away. “Yeah, smart choice!” It came out unsure and not even vaguely threatening, and she winced._

_“Whatever, perv,” the mouthy one tossed over her shoulder._

_Squinting after them even once they disappeared, Adora finally turned back to Catra as she asked, “What’s a f-” She found only an empty hall. “Catra?”_

__* __

_Adora sighed as she stared down a seemingly endless hallway, considering her next move. The vent system was where Catra usually went if she really really didn’t want to be found, and it was way too expansive for Adora to have any hope of finding her. But there were other places she could search before resigning herself to waiting for Catra to re-emerge._

_Closets, mostly. Catra had a penchant for curling up in small, dark spaces, and there were plenty of those scattered around the Fright Zone. Checking all of them would take at least an hour, but it’s not like Adora minded. Even if she failed to find Catra, at least for that hour she wouldn’t feel so helpless. At least she’d be doing_ something _._

_As luck would have it, she wasn’t ten minutes into her search before she heard muffled whimpers coming from the linen closet she was approaching. Too relieved to be all that concerned by the noises, Adora exhaled heavily, her lips turning up._

_That smile fell from her lips with a gasp as soon as she opened the door. Catra was slumped against the wall with a bloody rag pressed to the side of her head, her face streaked with dried and fresh tears alike. She winced and hissed, lifting her free hand to block out the flood of brightness. Squinting and peeking around it, she sighed. Adora couldn’t tell if it was with irritation or relief. “Hey, Adora.”_

_“What happened to you?” Leaving the door open just a crack so she had a bit of light, Adora squatted down and reached for the rag. Catra hissed but she pressed on anyway, knowing deep in her bones that Catra would never hurt her intentionally. She did protest with a warning growl when Adora persisted, but she only put up so much of a fight. Within seconds Adora was pulling her hand away, the rag clenched in her fist coming with it._

_Adora’s stomach dropped, the blood draining from her head leaving her nauseated and dizzy. A mess of matted hair and coagulated blood adorned the side of Catra’s head, the source a deep gash at the base of her ear. Peering closer despite her stomach’s protests, Adora could see that about half an inch of it was cut clean off. As the initial shock passed and left room for other emotions, Adora’s face and voice went dark. “Who did this to you?”_

_“No one,” grumbled Catra, refusing to meet her gaze._

_Adora was so not in the mood for Catra’s evasive bullshit. “Tell me. I’ll fucking kill them.” Adora never swore, not at that age, but she was livid in a way she’d never been before._

_“Adora,” Catra said quietly._

_She grabbed Catra’s shoulders, her anger manifesting in an aggressive squeeze. “Tell me!” Fear flashed in Catra’s eyes and Adora let go immediately, leaning back and raising her hands. “Catra, I just want to help. I’m not mad at you.”_

_“You will be.”_

_“What?” Scanning the scene in the dim light, Adora slowly put together the pieces. The lack of a trail of blood. The knife still on the floor. The shame on Catra’s face, the guilt in her hunched shoulders. Adora paled, eyes bulging. “What did you do?”_

_“They do me more harm than good.” Catra’s voice nearly cracked as she said, “I’m sick of being the freak with the ears.” Grabbing the knife from the floor, she held it out to Adora with a shaky hand. “Help me, I can’t do it.”_

_“No!”_

_“Adora-”_

_“Absolutely not.” Catra’s ears drooped with a defeated sigh and Adora clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Look, this is stupid. Cutting your ears off won’t give you human ears. You’ll just be the freak with no ears, and that’s way worse.” Even in that dark moment, a fond smile tried to pull at her lips as she reasoned, “You’ll mess up your hearing, and it’s so much better than anyone else’s. Don’t give up what makes you special.”_

_Catra scoffed at the floor. “Special.” She wrapped her arms and tail around her shins, resting her chin atop her knees._

_“Yes, special,” insisted Adora. “You can do things nobody else can.”_

_Frowning, Catra averted her eyes. “Shadow Weaver won’t let me do any of them anyway.”_

_It took Adora only a couple seconds to come up with another reason. “Well, don’t you need to hear them coming next time?”_

_Catra’s tail twitched irritably. “I guess.”_

_“See? They do you plenty good.” Adora forced a smile to cover how sick she felt. She reached out and gave Catra’s clean ear an affectionate scratch. “Besides, I like your ears.”_

_Catra’s ear flicked out from under her touch. “Well, not everything’s about you, Adora.”_

_Adora balked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”_

_“Forget it,” muttered Catra, and Adora squinted curiously._

_“Are you mad at me?”_

_“No,” she said pointedly, “but I will be if you don’t stop being so fucking annoying.”_

_Those words were like a slap in the face, or at least what Adora imagined one would feel like. Her shoulders slumped and face fell, but only for a moment. A rising tide of anger swiftly hardened her jaw, set her eyes aflame. Why was Catra attacking her like this, utterly unprovoked? She was only trying to help. It’s not like Adora was unused to Catra’s derogatory comments, but they were usually playful in nature. And not when she was grievously injured and in urgent need of medical attention._

_In Catra’s softening eyes and deflating posture, Adora saw the recognition of her mistake. Regret. For a second Adora almost thought she was going to apologize, but her eyes just flicked away guiltily. Adora snorted inwardly at her own folly. She should have known better than to expect that._

_After a moment of deliberation with clenched teeth and fists, Adora decided to let it go. Now was not the time to go causing more damage. Releasing the tension in her shoulders with a deep breath, she fixed Catra with a commanding stare. “I’m gonna go get some supplies to patch you up,” she asserted, keeping her tone even and firm. She extended a hand. “Give me the knife.”_

_Catra scowled and hesitated enough to make it look grudging when she handed over the weapon, but the way she slumped back against the wall afterwards read like relief. Despite her lingering irritation, Adora gave her knee a squeeze and promised, “I’ll be back.” Standing to leave, she added, “Keep pressure on that wound. It’s bleeding again.”_

_Adora risked severe punishment stealing supplies from the infirmary, but she knew if they showed up with Catra in that state Shadow Weaver would react very badly. She’d punish Catra for refusing to say who hurt her. She’d punish her even worse if she figured out Catra had done it to herself. So Adora took that risk. There was only so much Shadow Weaver would do to her, anyway, and Adora was not above taking advantage of that favoritism if necessary. Especially for Catra._

_Rapairing the damage was a difficult process, for both of them. Catra whimpered through the entire procedure, biting down on her knuckle and squeezing Adora’s knee as she stitched the sensitive skin and cartilage back into place. As for Adora, she could never stand seeing Catra in pain, much less being the source of it. But it was a necessary pain._

_...That sounded like something Shadow Weaver would say._

_Once Adora had tied off the final stitch and bandaged the wound, Catra finally let Adora hold her, slumping against her shoulder and trembling as the adrenaline wore off. “What did I do?” The words were whispered, but loud enough for Adora to hear the shock in her voice. The terror._

_“It’s okay,” Adora assured her gently. “You’re gonna be fine, I promise.” Gathering Catra into her lap, she leaned back and let the wall take their weight. “I’ve got you.”_

_Catra nuzzled a wet cheek into Adora’s neck with a small appreciative purr that Adora knew was forced, but appreciated all the same. Several moments passed before Catra attempted to speak again, clearing her throat to do so. “Thanks,” she said awkwardly, voice still raspy despite her efforts. “For everything.” Adora understood without her having to elaborate. Thanks for stopping her, thanks for helping her, thanks for forgiving her._

_“You’re welcome,” said Adora, grazing comforting nails over her scalp. “Just never do anything like that again, okay? Please. You really scared me.” Her throat swelled, and she deepened her voice to compensate for the strain in it. “Promise me.”_

_Snuffling into Adora’s collarbone, Catra acquiesced weakly. “I promise.”_

_“You’re perfect the way you are,” Adora declared, dragging a loose fist along the length of Catra’s tail before rubbing behind her good ear. “You hear me?”_

_A sob escaped Catra’s throat and she nodded, burying her face in Adora’s chest. Adora kissed the top of Catra’s head and tightened her grip, willed Catra to believe those words. Because they were true. No matter how many people saw Catra as a freak, she was perfect to Adora._

_Is_ perfect to Adora.

As much as Adora has tried over the years to remind her of that fact, make it utterly undeniable, Catra didn’t seem to believe it. Or, worse, it didn’t matter to her. Because she broke that promise. That day in the closet was not the last time Adora caught Catra in secluded places with sharp objects. Blades, pins, unsheathed claws. When they were fifteen, sixteen, there was a while there where it happened often. Catra never explained why. The most Adora ever wrangled out of her was “It doesn’t hurt. It makes things hurt less.”

It made no sense, it was physically impossible for that to be true. Adora could never understand, but decided she didn’t have to. If it helped Catra, she wouldn’t deny her that. She was trying not to push Catra’s boundaries again after the locker room incident. All she could do was watch over her and make sure she was as safe as possible. But her heart ached deeply for her best friend. And, selfishly, she wondered why she wasn’t enough, why Catra couldn’t take comfort in her warmth and tenderness instead of a cold, hard blade.

Now she knows. Now she truly hates Shadow Weaver. She’s glad she’s dead.

“Adora?” Bow’s voice jerks Adora from her thoughts and she looks over her shoulder, finding her friend standing at the threshold of the balcony. “Sorry, I knocked,” he claims sheepishly, nodding at her empty bedroom behind him. “Wasn’t sure if you heard me.”

“I didn’t. It’s fine,” she says, turning back to the railing. Bow quietly steps to her side, joins her in staring out over the kingdom. “Did Glimmer send you?”

“No.” Shifting beside her, he says, “I’m sorry about Catra.”

“Sure,” snorts Adora.

“I am.”

Finally looking over, Adora can see the sincerity in his face plain as day. She squints curiously. “You don’t think she deserves it?”

“I don’t think you deserve it,” offers Bow. When her eyes roll away, he adds, “It’s not fair that you have to choose between these two sides of yourself. I know it can’t be that easy to just leave your whole life behind. Your home, the people you love.”

Frowning at the horizon, Adora ruminates, “I’m glad I’m out of the Horde. I just wish she would be too. They’ve done so much to hurt her. I don’t understand why she’d want to stay there.”

He shrugs. “It’s home.”

Adora’s gaze drops to her fidgeting hands. “I thought I was her home.”

“I’m guessing she thought the same thing,” Bow points out. Unable to argue that, Adora grunts in acknowledgement. “Did you guys get to talk things out, at least?”

“Kind of,” she murmurs. “Actually it was going pretty good until Glimmer came back and fucked everything up.”

Bow barely tries to suppress a smirk. “So I hear.”

Adora doesn’t bother rolling her eyes. Her nails tap ceaselessly against the railing, sending a series of comforting shockwaves through her knuckles. “It wasn’t just Glimmer,” she admits. “I don’t know what happened, we’d been kissing for a while and then she suddenly freaked out. And when Glimmer got her arrested, it was like she was mad at _me_. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Some things never change, do they?

“Maybe you didn’t do anything wrong,” Bow ventures cautiously. “Catra isn’t exactly known for her mental stability, no offense.”

Adora shakes her head. “She doesn’t get angry for no reason. There’s always something under the surface. Problem is I never know what it is, and she won’t tell me.” A frustrated sigh puffs past her lips. “She’ll never talk about why she’s upset, but she expects me to know, somehow.”

“That sucks.”

Adora doesn’t answer. Bow waits several seconds before sliding a hand along the railing and clasping Adora’s, stilling her fingers before she breaks every nail in her hand. He gives a gentle squeeze that makes her eyes prickle with oncoming tears. She squeezes back harder as they spill onto her cheeks.

“Glimmer’s mad at me, Catra’s mad at me, and I can’t help her. Not without betraying the rebellion. I don’t know if she’d even accept my help, at this point.” Adora’s straining voice finally cracks as she says, “I don’t know what to do.”

“I wish I had an answer,” murmurs Bow.

“Me too,” Adora barely whispers. All it takes is a little tug of her hand to draw her into a hug. Adora drops her head, burying it in Bow’s chest as his arms envelop her. For all the frantic energy inside her that can’t stay still, being held still is a comfort. She lets herself enjoy this moment of weakness, the last one she’ll be able to afford in who knows how long. Once she’s recovered enough to speak, she mumbles into his collarbone, “Everything’s just so fucked up.”

“You know, maybe you should try letting things run their course a little, not do anything rash,” advises Bow, pulling back enough to look her in the eye. “I know feeling in control is important to you, but sometimes trying to control everything just makes things worse.”

“Maybe. I dunno,” sighs Adora. “The queen said she’d talk to Catra, see what she can do. Then I can talk to Catra… I can find out how that went, then maybe I can make a plan of attack, or at least weigh my options a little bett-”

A hand on her cheek silences her. “Adora, breathe.” Bow gives her a reassuring smile, a surprisingly genuine one, as he grazes his thumb over her cheekbone. “Try having a little faith.”

Adora can’t help snorting as she looks away. “These days it’s hard to have faith in anything. Anyone.”

“I hear you,” Bow says gently, guiding her into another hug. Adora releases a shuddering breath into his chest, rests her head on his shoulder as she finally relaxes just a little bit.

Maybe one more moment of weakness won’t kill her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warning for blood/mild body horror, coded racist and homophobic bullying, and self-harm, including mentions of the psychology behind it. It could potentially be triggering for someone with such impulses, so read at your own risk. It’s all constrained to the flashback and paragraphs right after it, though, so the rest should still be safe.
> 
> ...I’m really ticking off every fucked up box, aren’t I? Like I said at the beginning, I’m writing this mostly as catharsis, and you all are unlucky enough to be my audience.
> 
> You may have noticed I removed the projected chapter count. I’ve decided the vaguely hopeful but premature ending I had in mind doesn’t really work anymore and doesn’t give enough chance for continued growth. I’m kind of moving things around and deciding how exactly to proceed, so the next update may take a while.


	9. Authority

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I say this every chapter now, but this chapter is very, very dark. In my opinion it’s the darkest one yet, darker even than chapter 4. It will probably be triggering to read. It was as triggering to write as it was cathartic.
> 
> To specify, we are doing another deep dive into the psychological aspects and effects of physical abuse, and we’re also going to delve more into the self-harm stuff touched on last chapter. It’s awful, but… I do hope that this chapter illuminates why Catra is so self-destructive and how it’s linked to her obsession with power. My take on that, anyway. I will put some tips for safe reading (i.e. what to skip to avoid certain triggers) in the end notes, if you want to keep up with the story but need to avoid some of the content.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for emotional and physical child abuse, depictions of violence, suicidal ideation, panic attacks, and self-harm, including discussion of the psychology behind it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not advocating for self-harm as a healthy coping mechanism. I think it’s pretty clearly presented as maladaptive, but seriously, it’s not healthy. I feel a little bad for publishing this shit in case it triggers anyone else with those impulses, but hey, this fic is my therapy, and there’s content warnings all over it for a reason.
> 
> All those words of warning later, let’s get started, if I haven’t scared you off yet…

Tongue flitting out over her lips, Catra tracks a bird’s lazy trajectory across the sky. Her claws flex with the urge to pounce, scraping at the stone border of her cell window. In many ways this is better than the other cells she’s been in, but at least in the Fright Zone there wasn’t a revolving door of delectable treats passing by and making her taste buds water. She heard a mouse skitter by in the hall a while ago and just about flipped her shit, dropping to the floor with her butt and tail up in the air. This time, she planned to eat it and dispose of the carcass instead of leaving the kill as a gift for a cute girl. Catra’s still not sure what possessed her to do that that one time, but she never lived it down.

Unfortunately, the door is solid with no crack under it, and the mouse never made it inside. Catra cranes her neck as far as the window bars will let her, but the bird eventually flies out of sight too. She sighs, dropping down on the bed to sulk. She knows she should be grateful for the fresh air, but after several years of what she wanted being dangled just out of reach, she’s tired of being teased.

In almost every other way, though, this cell is an improvement. The temperature is manageable, and they even gave her a blanket. Such luxury. The breakfast they served her a little while ago was tastier than anything she ever ate in the Fright Zone. If that’s what they serve their prisoners, let alone their princesses, it’s no wonder Adora decided to stay. And it smells way better in here too, the flip side of having a window. Catra can grudgingly admit it’s worth the parade of prey, smelling the outdoors instead of the vague stench of rust and engine oil that permeates the Fright Zone. The only thing she doesn’t like is the row of bars blocking her in, isolating her from the rest of the small room. Maybe it’s more of her animal instincts, but she despises being locked in a cage.

Her eyes flick warily to the seats on the other side of the bars, then to the various manacles and chains hung on the wall. Being hogtied and carried around last night was bad enough, and she’s not looking forward to whatever they plan to do with those. She’s not used to being physically restrained, but after all the times Shadow Weaver paralyzed her with binding magic, she knows she can't stand losing control over her own body.

Catra’s heart flutters nervously and she takes a deep breath like she learned in combat training, reminds herself that she can end it if things get too rough. The guards didn’t disarm her, they left her with twenty little knives in her hands and feet. They know to avoid her swiping reach, but she doesn’t need to cut them. Only herself. Catra actually considered a preemptive strike when she was first captured, taking herself out before they could interrogate her, but she decided against it. She waited, because she knew Adora would be raising hell to get her out. And despite everything, some small part of her still can’t help having faith in Adora.

Boredom and nerves tempt her to do it anyway. Not lethally, just enough to give herself something to feel, something to distract her. She knows it’s not one of the better coping mechanisms she’s developed over the years, but right now she has limited options to self-soothe. Claws or fingers. Pain or pleasure. Neither would be great if she gets walked in on, but at least one is easier to hide than the other (to humans with shitty olfactory systems, anyway). And blood, blood is more embarrassing. She knows it’s not a normal thing to do, and people will think less of her for it. Shadow Weaver did, and Adora probably did too, though she never said as much.

The incident with her ear when she was twelve, that was when she first discovered pain was even an option. Because it wasn’t the pain that made her stop after one small slice. It was fear, and a deep knowledge that this was a mistake, that mutilating herself wouldn’t solve anything, as much as the thought of doing so weirdly made her feel better. No, she actually found the self-inflicted pain oddly soothing. But she was so scared by what she did in those moments of madness that she never tried to recreate that feeling. Not until the day after Shadow Weaver released her back into the barracks after the locker room incident, when Adora unwittingly put her through her first taste of hell.

_“Ugh, you’re such a nerd.”_

_“That’s why you like me.” Adora pulled Catra into her side with one arm, rubbing her knuckles into the top of Catra’s head. Gentler than she usually would have, given Catra’s injuries. Catra wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or annoyed._

_Forcing a chuckle, she fended off Adora half-heartedly. “Whatever you say, Adora.”_

_Adora smiled and took to combing her fingers through Catra’s hair, raking blunted nails along her scalp. Catra couldn’t help purring a little despite her foul mood and the aches throughout her body. But when those fingers moved to rub behind her ears, apprehension welled up in her gut. This was too much. It was nothing new between them, an innocent enough gesture, but it made Catra feel things that were decidedly not innocent. And that was dangerous. And painful._

_Ears flattening against her head, Catra sighed. “Don’t…”_

_“Don’t what?” asked Adora. Catra suddenly couldn’t speak. “Am I hurting you?”_

_Yes. Yes, she was hurting her. Catra’s heart felt like it was being squeezed, crushed inside her chest. The one thing she needed most of all right now was Adora’s comfort, and it was the one thing she could not have. Catra forced a nod and Adora moved her hand immediately, obvious concern on her face. Unfortunately, she made things infinitely worse by taking Catra’s hand._

_A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob caught in Catra’s throat. Was Adora_ trying _to mock her, to rub in all the things she could never have again? Wiggling her hand free, Catra said, “I need to go.”_

_“What?” Adora blinked. “Why?”_

_Standing to leave, Catra muttered, “I left something in the locker room.” Namely, her sanity._

_“I’ll go with you,” Adora said quickly, but it was more of a question than a statement. She looked like a kicked puppy, but there was a slight tinge of hope in her tone. Hope that she’d misunderstood, that Catra wasn’t pushing her away. Her eyes only got bigger and sadder when Catra shook her head. “Catra, please talk to me,” she implored._

_Catra’s chest cramped again, forcing her eyes away. How was she supposed to do this every day? How was she supposed to see the unbridled affection in Adora’s eyes and resist it? To see that hope and stamp it out? How was she supposed to break her own heart and Adora’s every single goddamn day? It wasn’t fucking fair._

_“There’s nothing to talk about,” she mumbled. “I’m fine.” Then she turned tail and bolted before she did something she’d regret, like jump Adora or burst into tears._

_She wasn’t fine._

_She wasn’t fine._

*

_“What will happen if you allow any more advances from Adora?”_

_Jaw clenched, Catra’s eyes burned through the floor of her cell. She hated this part, it was so humiliating. Why did Shadow Weaver always have to do this after?_

_Shadow Weaver floated closer to where Catra stood, invading her space. “What will happen, Catra?”_

_“I’ll be transferred,” she finally mumbled. Catra knew from experience that she wouldn’t get out until she answered, until Shadow Weaver was satisfied that she had learned her lesson. And after three days of this shit, she really couldn’t take any more, mentally or physically. She needed to go home, even if that home could never be the same._

_A sharp fingernail dug in under her chin and tipped it up, demanding eye contact. “And?”_

_Swallowing subtly, Catra met her gaze and held it intently. Stubbornly, to prove she could. To do it on her own terms. To reclaim just a tiny bit of the power stripped away from her. “And I’ll never see her again.”_

_“Good kitty,” cooed Shadow Weaver. “You’ve been listening for once.” She raised her empty left hand, but not in a threatening way. Only to scratch the top of Catra’s head. That was actually worse._

_Catra’s skin crawled, shoulders clenching as she fought off the urge to growl. Praise and affection was all she’d ever wanted from Shadow Weaver, but not like this, not when she was only doing it to rub in the power she held. Did she really need to do anything more to exert her dominance? Was she not doing enough to demonstrate her authority two minutes ago?_

_“So what are you going to do if she tries anything again?” Shadow Weaver pressed, finally drawing her hand back._

_Catra swallowed and forced her leaden lips and tongue to move. “Act like I don’t want it.”_

_“Act? I think you mean, you won’t allow her to touch you in ways you don’t want,” Shadow Weaver corrected her. A steady rapping sound drew Catra’s attention and her eyes locked onto the staff Shadow Weaver was slowly tapping against her own palm. Catra’s heart stuttered, battering her ribcage as she struggled to stay upright against a sudden head rush. “Because you don’t want her, do you, Catra? You know where that leads.”_

_Those last sentences sounded distorted, like Catra was listening from underwater or through a thick pane of glass. Countless tender bruises on her body throbbed and she bit back a wave of nausea, teeth digging into her suddenly dry tongue. It was several moments before she could breathe, let alone speak._

_“No. I don’t want it.”_

*

_She wanted it. She wanted it so bad she could die._

_There were many things Catra wanted in life. Recognition, respect, praise, power. Affection, acceptance. Safety. But the only thing she truly craved was Adora. She’d coaxed herself to sleep those two cold nights in her cell with thoughts of Adora’s warmth and comfort. Strong arms holding her close, breath hitting the back of her neck in reassuring little puffs. Admittedly, those thoughts had quickly devolved into other fantasies of closeness. Nuzzling into Adora’s neck and leaving little nips under her jaw. Dragging her rough tongue over Adora’s smooth belly. Hearing the desperate little noises Adora would make as she brought her closer and closer…_

_Fuck. How was she supposed to do this?_

_Somehow she’d made it to the locker room, the place this nightmare began. It was deserted at that hour, the cadets all enjoying their few hours of unregulated time before lights out. It was the perfect place to lose her fucking mind._

_Tail whipping around behind her, Catra started pacing, pulling at her hair as she let out low growls of frustration that morphed into screams. She ended up punching several lockers, leaving dents in the metal doors. At least that damage wouldn’t be pinned on her automatically, unlike claw marks. Her claws ached to dig into something, but she knew better. She couldn’t take another beating, not this soon._

_Catra moved to the heavy bag and punched until her knuckles screamed for mercy and her lungs screamed for air. Her heavy pants were mixed with sobs, hot tears leaking from her eyes and cutting trails down her cheeks. Collapsing back against a bank of lockers, she slowly slid to the floor and buried her face in her hands. She was spent, but couldn’t for the life of her calm down. The restless, panicked energy needed another way out, and her breaths came faster and faster until she was fully hyperventilating._

_Feeling what little control she had slipping away, Catra dug her claws into her own forearm in an attempt to ground herself in reality. Pain was good for that, she knew from her failed attempts to dissociate during her fun times with Shadow Weaver. Her claws stung as they broke skin and she let out a little gasp and a hiss, squeezing her eyes shut as her features contorted with discomfort._

_She didn’t cry, not any more than she already was. Physical pain rarely made her cry anymore, especially if she knew it was coming. Shadow Weaver had trained that out of her a few years back in the most brutal way possible. She did growl, though, as her claws sank in deeper, tightening her tenuous grip on her own sanity._

_And it hurt, it did hurt. But with all her focus on her self-inflicted pain, the pain she couldn’t control started to slip away. And as her body adjusted, started blocking out even that pain, she began to feel blessedly numb. Her growl slowly turned into a purr, her head lolling back against the lockers with a sigh._

Up to that point in Catra’s life, pain had always been an enemy. A threat, a thing used to control her. But that day, she realized she could make pain a friend. Or an ally, at least. It was a tool she could use. A thing she controlled.

The difference between that day and the linen closet was, now she didn’t care if she damaged herself. Now she knew none of it fucking mattered. She’d never make anything of herself. She was more capable than most Horde soldiers, but no one could see that, not even Adora. She would never be anything but a lowly, disposable foot soldier, would never match up to someone like Adora. Would never be worthy of someone like Adora. So what did it matter if she was scarred, inside and out?

This new coping mechanism helped, for a while. That first year of keeping herself from Adora was especially hard, and it’s not like she had any other way of distracting herself from her inner turmoil (other than jerking off, but that usually brought her thoughts right back to Adora, which was obviously counterproductive). The kicker was that she couldn’t talk to her best friend about it, either. So she leeched the anguish from her mind and stress from her body with whatever sharp objects she could get her hands on. Blades stung less and cut cleaner, but were obviously harder to come by, so it was mostly her claws. No matter all the things Shadow Weaver put her through, she could fall back on her claws for a sense of control. Fall back on her own body. On herself.

Sometimes, though, it made her feel out of control. Some demon kept whispering in her ear to take the knife to other places, down her arms or between her ribs. Telling her it would be easier, it would all be over and she wouldn’t have to bear this pain anymore. But Catra was too stubborn to take her own life. To do so would be to admit defeat, and to let Shadow Weaver win. She couldn’t let either of those happen. Besides, if she did then she’d really lose Adora and they’d never have a chance. Some stupidly optimistic part of Catra always wanted to believe things would get better. Adora would surpass Shadow Weaver one day, she’d overrule her, and they’d have their chance to act on their feelings. To be happy.

Everything always came down to Shadow Weaver and Adora. They were also why she stopped. Shadow Weaver didn’t punish her when she found out, like she’d expected. All she did was laugh at her for being so self-destructive, mock her for her weakness. Of course, that only motivated her to be strong, to find other ways to cope. And Adora, well. Adora was so worried. Once she wised up to what Catra was doing, she was heartbroken and terrified. And Catra didn’t want Adora to worry. Part of her felt better, knowing that Adora cared about her wellbeing, but she hated seeing Adora in any kind of distress, and hated being the cause of it even more. The guilt got to her over time, and combined with Shadow Weaver’s cutting remarks, one day Catra snapped and decided to stop.

Deciding was only half the battle. She’d gotten used to it, like a kind of security blanket, and there were a few times where she caved in a moment of panic or intense sorrow. But she was prideful, and determined. It wasn’t long before she was back to self-medicating with sarcasm and apathy. She rarely feels the urge to use those old coping mechanisms anymore. She’s been too busy being angry. Of course, right now she’s not busy doing anything. That’s the problem. Restlessness, anxiety, boredom, powerlessness…

The sound of approaching footsteps makes Catra’s ears prick up. The room is fairly soundproof by human standards, but she can make out at least two pairs of heavy boots. Her gut swoops but she forces herself to sit up tall, meet her fate with pride. She tries not to think about the reasons for the soundproofing. She’s probably been through worse, anyway.

When the door opens, Catra can’t help but startle. No one expects the monster under their childhood bed to suddenly appear before them in adulthood. With startling accuracy too, accuracy Catra wasn’t able to appreciate from a distance during the battle. The real live version of Queen Angella of Bright Moon has the same flowing hair, same thin face, and weirdly the exact same earrings as her simulated counterpart. But her expression is much less devious and bloodthirsty, more… honestly, the best way Catra can describe the vibe this woman gives off is ‘so done with this shit.’

“Allow me to introduce myself,” she begins without fanfare. “I’m Qu-”

“I know who you are,” Catra interjects flippantly as she recovers her wits. “You were scarier in hologram form.”

The queen barely raises an eyebrow, not exactly the reaction Catra had been hoping for. “Not much of one for first impressions, are you?” she remarks. Gods, her accent is every bit as uppity as her posture.

“What does it matter?” asks Catra. “Maybe if I suck up, you’ll kill me quickly instead of making me suffer?” She holds Angella’s gaze intently, never blinking. “Suffering is nothing to me. I’ll keep my pride, thanks.”

Angella’s mostly blank face turns inquisitive as she steps closer to the bars. “Why do you assume I plan to kill you?”

Catra blinks in bewilderment. “I mean, aside from how I kidnapped your daughter, invaded your kingdom, and shot a cannon straight at you? I hear Bright Moon folk aren’t too keen on Horde soldiers.”

“Most of them haven’t made the greatest impression,” Angella points out. “Then again, one of them has. Clearly, we would be wrong to think that there are no good people in the Horde.”

Slumping back to rest against the wall, Catra chuckles. “Let me guess. Adora told you some sob story about how horrible my childhood was, said I’m really a good person on the inside?” She cocks an eyebrow. “Hate to break it to you, Angie, but Adora’s not very smart.”

The queen’s eyes narrow slightly at the demeaning form of address, but she keeps her voice steady as she says, “You saved her, and my daughter.”

Examining her claws, Catra deflects, “I just wanted Adora gone so she wouldn’t get in my way. Sparkles was lucky enough to be with her.” She only looks up after several seconds of silence pass. The hard expression on Angella’s face makes her gulp.

“Do you want to die, Force Captain?” Angella asks bluntly. “Is that what you’re playing at? Because I can make it happen. Just say the word.”

Catra scowls at the mattress, a displeased growl tickling the back of her throat. “I want to live or die on my own terms. I’m not Adora’s pet project.”

“This isn’t about Adora.”

“Suuuure,” drawls Catra. “Don’t give me that shit. Why else would you be here?”

“I’m here because a reckless Horde officer decided to infiltrate my castle,” Angella says flatly, “apparently because she can’t keep it in her pants.”

Catra just about chokes on her own spit. “That’s not why I came here,” she protests.

“So why did you?” inquires Angella. “I’d really like to know.”

“I just wanted to talk to her,” Catra says, a little too defensively. Giving a casual shrug to make up for it, she adds, “Things got a little intense. It happens.”

“Are you saying this happens often with Adora?” infers Angella. Catra averts her eyes and frowns, too proud to admit that this was the first time she got anywhere near, well, a first time. When she fails to answer, the queen hums. “Either way, it’s clear there’s a very strong connection between the two of you. She threatened to betray the rebellion to save your life, you know.”

“What?” Catra’s eyes snap up, searching Angella’s. After a moment she deflates with a chuckle. “That’s a lie. Adora’s all about her moral code, she’s made that very clear.”

“True. And her moral stance at the moment is that you deserve a chance to make things right.”

“Seriously?” blinks Catra. “What makes her think that?”

Angella’s lips quirk sheepishly and she admits, “Like you said, your childhood.”

Groaning hard, Catra smacks her head back against the stone wall. “Fucking Adora,” she mutters at the ceiling. “Can always count on her for some bleeding heart bullshit.”

“Do you disagree with her?” probes Angella.

Good question, and not one Catra knows how to answer. She’s dealt with a lot of shit she didn’t deserve over the years, but is that supposed to cancel out the shit she’s earned now? Is it all supposed to be some kind of great cosmic equation, the ultimate equalizer? No, Catra knows better. Life isn’t fair, that’s what Shadow Weaver always said.

“It doesn’t matter what I do or don’t deserve,” she concludes, brow scrunching up as tight as her jaw. “It never has. The people in charge will do what they do.”

“What if I told you you could have some input in that process?”

One of Catra’s ears flicks, her eyes finally falling to meet Angella’s again. “What are you talking about?”

“Restorative justice. It’s a concept foreign to the Horde, from what I understand,” says Angella. “It’s a discussion where the accuser and accused, along with some mediating parties, come to an agreement on how the guilty party can best atone for their misdeeds. The intent is to make things right, rather than to punish. Justice in the purest sense of the word.”

Catra dismisses this with a snort, masking the spark of hope blooming in her chest. “That sounds like something Arrow Boy would come up with.”

“It’s a concept that’s been around for millennia, actually,” the queen informs her with a slight smile. “But, and you need to understand this, it can only work if both sides want it to work, and if they both agree wrong has been done.” Catra merely blinks, so she spells out, “You have to be sorry.”

“Too bad I’m not sorry,” scoffs Catra.

“We can fix that,” says Angella. Despite the lack of a threatening tone, a cold rush washes over Catra’s brain at those ominous words.

_“Trust me, I will make you sorry,” Shadow Weaver assured Catra, slowly closing in on her. The glow of the Black Garnet cast extra shadows on the floor around her robe, adding to her usual eeriness, but Catra didn’t even flinch._

_“Oh, yeah?” she snarked. “What are you gonna do?” She said this even though she knew exactly what Shadow Weaver was capable of. Provoking her was foolish, she knew that. But giving her attitude, pretending not to be afraid, it was the only way to feel like she had any power in the situation. Besides, Shadow Weaver’s tolerance for lip was higher than it used to be, thanks to high levels of exposure. Their relationship had taken a downturn (if that was even possible for them) since the whole Adora thing, and Catra barely tried to keep her disdain under wraps anymore._

_“You’re a terrible soldier,” Shadow Weaver berated her, glowing white eyes narrowing in a way that made Catra’s gut flip. “Not only are you useless and incapable, you have no respect for authority.” Catra’s shoulders clenched, ear flicking with displeasure. Gods, she hated that word._

_“Maybe I would, if she wasn’t such a bitch,” retorted Catra. She expected Shadow Weaver to attempt to slap her, and was ready to dodge the blow. Shadow Weaver didn’t move, but her glare did grow even more heated._

_“My tight schedule is all that’s keeping me from taking a walk with you, Cadet,” hissed Shadow Weaver. Catra’s jaw twitched at the coded language she was all too familiar with. “I don’t have time to deal with you properly today, be grateful.”_

_“I’ll keep that in mind,” Catra deadpanned. She turned to leave, but was stopped mid-step by a crackle of electricity. Her skin prickled and muscles screamed with tension and she grimaced, panting into the pain._

_“I didn’t say you were dismissed.” The hairs on the back of Catra’s neck stood on end as she felt Shadow Weaver creeping up behind her. Then the spell dropped, and Catra almost fell with it when her muscles gave out. “We don’t have to go to the prison for me to teach you a lesson,” said Shadow Weaver, grabbing Catra’s arm. “And it will be my pleasure to put you in your place.” Turning sharply, she thrust her toward the cauldron._

_Catra lacked the strength in that moment to brake her momentum, and the cauldron struck her just below the ribs, knocking the wind out of her. Pushing herself up on her forearms on the lip of the bowl, she tried to catch her breath. Shadow Weaver floated up beside her as she recovered, and just as Catra turned to glare at her she issued a chilling command. “Bend over.”_

_Catra’s mouth dropped open, eyes widening incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me?”_

_Sparks flashed between the sorceress’s palms in an unspoken but very clear threat, and a jolt of fear catapulted Catra into action. She knew how much more the beatings hurt when she was immobilized, with the cold burn of binding magic coursing through her skin. Not to mention how awful it was feeling Shadow Weaver taking control of her muscles, making her put herself in a vulnerable position. It was better to do it herself, pretend she had authority over her own body. Pretend she had even a semblance of agency in the situation. In her whole fucking life._

_Of course, Shadow Weaver had to ruin even that as she came to stand behind her. “Good girl,” she said, bracing a hand on Catra’s lower back. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”_

_Catra bit back a growl._

_With no other implements at her disposal, Shadow Weaver had to use her hand. And it hurt less, strictly pain-wise, yet it was completely unbearable. She hadn’t done it this way since Catra was a small child, which made the whole thing feel particularly demeaning. And with the directness of the contact came a sharp sense of vulnerability. It was so fucking humiliating that Shadow Weaver could touch her like that and she couldn’t do anything about it._

_That was the point, though. She wasn’t in charge._

_“Stand up,” the sorceress ordered sharply. And even though it was all Catra wanted to do, being told to do it made her hesitate with a scowl. But she knew what was good for her, and she didn’t want to give Shadow Weaver any more ideas. Narrowed eyes flicking to Shadow Weaver as she stood, she found her commanding officer appraising her appearance critically, as though it wasn’t her fault Catra’s uniform was askew. “Straighten those belts, Cadet.”_

_Catra obeyed but didn’t even try to disguise the anger and hatred burning her cheeks, the flaring of her nostrils and grinding of her teeth. Chuckling at the display of emotion, Shadow Weaver prompted her, “What have we learned today, Catra?”_

_Unable to think in the midst of her blind rage, Catra blinked herself back to a somewhat functional state. It took her a moment to remember why she was even there. “Not to play pranks on instructors.”_

_“And?”_

_“Not to call you a bitch.”_ Even if you deserve it. _Catra had to literally bite her lips shut to stop herself from saying that out loud._

_“Not to challenge my authority,” Shadow Weaver corrected her._

_“Right,” muttered Catra. Shadow Weaver continued to eye her expectantly, looking simultaneously impatient and like she had all the time in the world to rub this in Catra’s face. “Not to-” Catra’s words caught in her throat and she looked away just in case the sting in her eyes turned to tears._ Don’t cry, Catra. Don’t cry, don’t you fucking cry. For fuck’s sakes you’re sixteen, not six, get it together. Don’t you dare cry, not in front of _her._

_Catra swallowed to steady her voice, keeping her eyes glued to the floor. She couldn’t risk looking Shadow Weaver in the eye, or the dam might burst. “Not to challenge your authority,” she ground out, her voice embarrassingly quiet and gravelly._

_“I think you finally learned something today,” remarked Shadow Weaver. Still refusing to look her way, Catra snorted back the mucus threatening to dribble out of her nose. “You are dismissed.”_

_Catra stormed out of the room trembling with rage and another emotion she couldn’t name. She’d only made it a few feet past the door before she heard someone clambering to their feet and cursed under her breath. She’d forgotten Adora was waiting for her outside, neither of them having realized what Catra was about to walk into. This was the last thing she needed to deal with right now. Didn’t she already spend enough of her life looking out for Adora, making sure she never had to face anything too horrible? She’d already taken the blame for the prank they pulled together, wasn’t that enough?_

_“Catra. Hey, Catra!” Adora chirped as she rushed to catch up, with her usual amount of oblivious cheer. Closing the gap, Adora grasped her upper arm. “What did she say?” she asked, concern clouding her features. That was even worse than the obliviousness. “Are you okay? I heard shouting.”_

_Stopping abruptly, Catra snatched her arm away. “Don’t touch me.”_

_Adora’s face fell. “Sorry.” The pain in her eyes made Catra’s stomach rumble with guilt. She hated that Adora felt the need to walk on eggshells around her now, that she could no longer be what Adora needed. But it was probably for the best._

_Pasting on a smile, Adora started, “Hey, you wanna go-”_

_“I need to be alone right now,” Catra said stiffly, eyes focused down the hall._

_“Oh, okay,” Adora mumbled, scratching the back of her neck. She knew what alone time usually meant for Catra, those days. “Should I, um… will you need supplies?”_

_Catra shot her a withering glare. “I can take care of myself, Adora. Go baby someone else,” she snapped as she walked away._

_“Catra, don’t be like that,” Adora called after her. “Catra!”_

“Catra? Catra.”

“What?” she snarls, and the viciousness of the sound shocks her right from the dissociative state into a hyperaware one. Her ears strain to hear any changes in Angella’s breathing, eyes skirting across her muscles in search of increased tension, any sign that she may be about to strike. But there are none. Angella actually appears to be mostly unruffled by her outburst. Of course. She probably came in expecting to meet some rabid beast, if Glimmer had anything to say (and that asshole _always_ has something to say).

“I was saying,” Angella continues calmly, “meeting the people you’ve hurt and seeing the damage up close could help change your mind about what side you should be on. It did for Adora.”

Catra growls at the memory. Fucking Thaymor plagues her nightmares as much as Shadow Weaver.

“I’m trying to give you options,” says Angella, a clear warning in her tone. “We could just lock you away for good, or take your head. But Adora believes it would be more meaningful for you to help us, find ways to counter the damage you caused.” Holding Catra’s gaze, she declares, “I agree with her.”

“How charitable of you.”

“It isn’t charity. Lucky for you, you have something to offer. You’re a formidable military leader, Force Captain Catra.” Catra’s ears prick up at the compliment, and she feels her face softening a little against her wishes. Fuck. She hates showing her cards so easily, and she knows Angella has caught on because her voice turns coaxing when she says, “You would be a great asset to us if you defected.”

Catra stares at Angella blankly for several seconds. She really has no reason to choose the rebellion over the Horde at this point, but she can’t help but marvel at the attempt to woo her away from the dark side. Quite frankly, the offer sounds too good to be true. There has to be a catch. Her eyes narrow. “And what makes you think you could trust me? You’re not seriously just going to take Adora’s word for it, are you?”

“I would take any intel with a grain of salt until you’ve proven yourself. You would have to earn my trust. However, I’m not the only person you need to worry about,” she says, her tone turning cautionary. Great, here comes the catch. “I can only clear your name if you give me reason to believe it’s for the good of my kingdom. But the people also need reason to believe it, or else they will feel like I am not ruling with their best interests in mind.”

Catra’s stomach burbles. She doesn’t like where this seems to be heading.

“As part of the restorative justice agreement, I would need you to agree to more directly counter your previous actions by serving the community,” Angella concludes. “Helping with the rebuilding effort, for instance.”

Catra guffaws humorlessly. “Clearing rubble with my feet shackled together and surrounded by guards while everyone gawks, is that what you’re thinking? I’m not interested in humiliating myself to gain the sympathy of these idiots.”

“That’s not quite what I had in mind. Your brain certainly jumps to the worst possible conclusions, doesn’t it?” remarks Angella.

“Years of being right.” Her shrug is supposed to be nonchalant, but the queen doesn’t look like she’s buying it, if the pity in her eyes is any indication. Catra averts her eyes with a scowl.

“The point isn’t to humiliate you, Catra,” she explains. “The point is to help you demonstrate that your commitment to the rebellion is genuine.”

“Okay first of all, I don’t have any commitment to your fucking rebellion. That’s awfully presumptuous of you,” snaps Catra. “And I’m not interested in sucking up to them, or you.”

“Please don’t take this offer lightly,” Angella cautions her icily. “There are many who would love to see you pay for the sins of the Horde, but I have the authority to wipe your slate clean.”

Catra’s ear flicks and a strained chuckle pops out of her chest. “Oh, I bet you do.”

“I’m trying to help you,” insists Angella, but Catra can hear her patience wearing thin. Good. She is so done with this conversation.

“Right,” she purrs, getting to her feet. Cocking a mocking eyebrow, she strolls up to the bars with her tail swishing confidently behind her. “‘Cause you’re the good and noble ruler, right? The benevolent dictator, with the authority to bend the law any way she likes, for whoever she likes or dislikes?” Her hands squeeze the bars in a death grip, making up for the huge grin she’s forced onto her face.

Angella regards her coldly. “Don’t presume to know me, Force Captain.”

“I know you.” Catra presses her face right up against the bars. “You cold-hearted bitches in charge are all the same, no matter what face you put on. And what, am I supposed to be grateful that I’m being singled out for a good reason this time?” Catra laughs, but it lacks force. “You can go fuck yourself. I don’t need your mercy, or your pity.”

Angella steps back, lips set in a firm line. “I’ll give you some time to think about it,” she says, then knocks on the door to be granted her leave. Catra can’t help chuckling despite the sudden tightness in her chest. They really are all the same.

_“I’ll give you some time to think about your behavior.”_

Catra can’t even count the number of times she heard that phrase, or some variation of it, as Shadow Weaver backed out of her cell and activated the force field. It was a threat, a promise of what was to come, that sent shivers down her spine every time. It made her heart race and breathing speed up, made her muscles clench and stay that way for minutes, hours, however long it took for her to come back. The waiting was the worst part.

No. Not knowing how long she’d have to wait was the worst part. One less thing she could be certain of. She could never predict where Shadow Weaver would hit her, how many times, what she would use, how long of a lecture she’d subject her to. Knowing those things would have helped. She could have steeled herself for them, kept track of what was left to endure. But Shadow Weaver seemed to think variety was the spice of life, or maybe she knew Catra needed to know those things to feel some sense of control and kept her guessing just to fuck with her. Either was entirely possible.

Turning from the door, Catra flops down on the bed, nuzzles the thick but scratchy blanket to make up for the sudden lack of stimulation after all that. Her hands start to move instinctually, and she allows it. No one else is here to mock her for her animalistic behaviors, for kneading the pliable surface to ease her mind. Better to dig her claws into the blanket than her own skin.

The flutter of passing wings hits her ears again, but this time she doesn’t bother getting up to watch.

Once again, all she can do is wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tips for safe reading: Skip the flashback within the first flashback and the first two thirds of the second flashback if you want to avoid the worst of the abuse. There’s a bit more right at the end after Angella leaves, but nothing worse than what was in the earlier chapters. The self-harm is more sprinkled in, but there’s some in the last two paragraphs of the intro (prior to flashback #1), the first six paragraphs after flashback #1, and some in the last few paragraphs of each of the flashbacks. Once you catch wind of it you can skip the rest of each flashback without losing vital information.
> 
> Welp, that was one hell of a chapter. Can’t guarantee when the next one will be up, since I have other projects I’m working on and I’m still reworking this fic’s plot, but hopefully it won’t be more than a few weeks.
> 
> Also, I have a Ko-fi now! If anyone's enjoying this work and feeling particularly generous, feel free to go drop me a few bucks at https://ko-fi.com/johannas_motivational_insults. I can also give previews of upcoming chapters in exchange for support. If you don't have anything to spare, no worries at all, the next best thing is to recommend this fic (with content warnings, of course) or to leave a comment about what you enjoy about/are getting out of this story. Any positive feedback is going to be helpful, especially after writing a chapter like this. It took a lot out of me, for reasons you can probably imagine.
> 
> Anyway, I'm glad you made it to the end. 'Til next time!


	10. Just Like Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy everyone, I’m back! Sorry for the minor delay, I was updating a bunch of my other fics and ironing out some crucial details of the upcoming plot. Good news is, I now know exactly what’s gonna happen in the next 3-4 chapters (unless season 3 gives me any new and brilliant ideas), so updates should be more frequent for the next while.
> 
> This is another Catradora chapter, which means it’s dual POV just like chapter 6. I did have this beta read, so hopefully there will be no confusion with all the POV switches.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for allusions to past child abuse, and that’s about it. Prepare to have your heart ripped out, regardless. :)

Adora is pacing a groove into the floor outside the prison when Angella emerges, a grim expression on her face. Stopping in her tracks, Adora gulps and braces herself.

“You have your work cut out for you, Adora,” says Angella.

“Oh, no. What did she say to you?”

Angella’s posture stiffens more, if that’s possible. “To be completely frank and vulgar, she told me to go fuck myself.” Adora deflates like a popped balloon as the air leaves her body. Angella eyes her with sympathy as she adds, “I offered her a restorative justice hearing and a place in the rebellion, but she says she doesn’t want any special treatment on account of you.”

Adora’s eyes squeeze shut with a frustrated groan. Catra is stubborn to the point of stupidity sometimes. Adora’s in a position of influence and Catra is refusing to let her use it out of what, spite? How could she throw away a chance like that, after everything Adora did to give it to her? Honestly, how dare she?

“I’m gonna go knock some sense into that idiot,” fumes Adora. When Angella squints, she quickly clarifies, “Not actually. It’s a figure of speech.”

“If she’s been through all you say she has, you might want to rethink your figures of speech,” Angella cautions her.

“Right.” Adora scowls at the floor, gnawing on her lip.

“Adora.” Her eyes flick up and find a pensive look on the queen’s face. “She’d never say it, but that girl needs kindness. And you might be the only person she’d accept it from.”

Adora sighs. “I wish.”

As she turns toward the gate guarding the prison entrance, Angella says, “Wait.” She looks back curiously. “You’re making this visit as Adora. Only Adora.” Angella holds out an expectant hand. “Hand over the sword.”

“What?” balks Adora. “Why?”

“You know why.”

Her eyes narrow. “Seriously?”

“You said yourself what you’d be willing to do,” states Angella. “I know to take you at your word.”

Adora’s lips pucker with barely contained indignation. It takes all of her self-restraint not to slap the sword down into the queen’s waiting hand. “That better be waiting for me when I get back.”

“And it shall.”

Adora storms through the prison corridors, fueled by anger and betrayal. Why does everyone insist on making her life so difficult? By the time she makes it past the second gated checkpoint and to the door of Catra’s cell, she’s positively seething. The guard at the door seemingly thinks better of attempting any pleasantries, opening it without a word.

The first thing Adora sees is the row of bars cutting the room in half. Then she sees Catra, sprawled out on her belly on a cot on the other side. She’s wearing a loose tunic over her usual ripped leggings, and from what Adora can see, she appears unharmed. Despite her anger, Adora can’t help a small sigh of relief at the sight, nor her blush as she remembers how Catra lost her uniform top.

Catra’s eyes are closed but she seems to be awake, lazily kneading and nuzzling the blanket. She isn’t purring, but she almost looks relaxed. No. She looks bored. And while she must have heard the door open and can probably smell Adora already, she hasn’t responded in the slightest. Adora’s fists clench at her sides. Does Catra really have nothing to say to her after everything they said and did last night, after everything Adora’s done since to try to protect her?

“What is wrong with you?” demands Adora.

Catra looks up with a lazy smirk. “Oh, hey Adora.” She flops onto her back, limbs dangling off the edge of the tiny mattress. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Unamused, Adora marches straight up to the bars. “You told the queen to go fuck herself?”

“She looked like she could use a good fuck, what can I say? And I thought you were uptight.”

“Damn it, Catra!” Adora kicks one of the bars in a fit of frustration, sending pain radiating through her foot and up her shin. “Ow, fuck!” Hopping around on her other leg, she tries to shake out the pain with little success.

Eyes going wide, Catra sits up and takes in the scene. “Dude, calm down.” Approaching the bars, she peers at Adora’s face, noting her pale and clammy cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes. “Have you even slept?”

Adora eyes her incredulously. “Have you?”

“Yeah. Pretty well, actually. This wasn’t my first night in a holding cell,” Catra reminds her with a sassy eyebrow. “Here they even have blankets.”

“They didn’t-” Adora shakes her head sharply, cutting off her own stupid question. “Yeah, that really shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Still getting used to the whole ‘Horde is evil’ thing? Whenever we were fighting you seemed pretty sure of it.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ve gone back and reexamined everything I ever experienced,” grumbles Adora. Her eyebrows quirk in thought. “Or didn’t experience, in this case.”

Catra scowls. “Rub it in, much?”

“I just don’t want to act like I understand something I don’t,” Adora explains cautiously, in an attempt to avoid Catra’s ire. Then she remembers why she’s here and caution goes flying out the fucking window. Eyes narrowing, she snarks, “Like why you would turn down an offer of amnesty, for example.”

Catra’s eyes roll so far back in her skull she can see her own brain. “It wasn’t amnesty, Adora. Like I was gonna humiliate myself in front of her and everyone else and pretend to be sorry for doing my fucking job.”

Adora huffs, crossing her arms. “I know you hate apologizing, Catra, but would you literally rather die than say you’re sorry?”

“It would be a lie. Besides, it’s not just an apology.” Catra squints warily at the naive soldier in front of her. “Am I really supposed to switch sides and work for someone I don’t know anything about, swear fealty and submit to her every whim? Angella has some serious Shadow Weaver vibes, you know.”

Adora blinks hard. “Are you joking?”

“What, you don’t see it?”

Her brow furrows. Angella can be intimidating, sure, but that’s about where the similarities end. But Adora can at least sympathize with an ingrained fear of the Queen of Bright Moon. “Look, I know they taught us to be scared of her-”

“Ugh, forget it!” snaps Catra, turning away and smacking her palm against her forehead. 

Deflating with a sigh, Adora scans Catra’s body for signs of damage. “Are you okay, considering?” she asks. “They didn’t hurt you?”

“Not once they’d subdued me, no,” Catra mutters bitterly.

Adora’s mouth twitches. “I’m sorry about that. I really thought the rebellion was above that kind of behavior.”

“Yeah, and your new bestie is a total backstabber.” Catra cocks her head. “You really wonder how I could doubt your judgement?”

“...Yeah, that’s fair,” Adora admits sheepishly. Loosely gripping one of the bars separating them, she asks, “Can I come in?”

Caught off guard, Catra blinks. “Will they let you?”

Adora shrugs. “I can ask.”

Catra mirrors the gesture. “Sure, why not?”

When Adora turns to knock on the door, Catra’s eyebrows arch at the sight of her empty back. Considering what Angella said she threatened to do, it’s not much of a surprise that Adora’s not carrying her sword, but it’s still an unfamiliar sight. Catra’s chest aches with longing for a time when that wasn’t the case. When Adora was just Adora.

The guard by the door steps into the cell, pointing her spear at Catra. “Prisoner, move back against the wall.” Catra obeys with a scowl and she unlocks the gate, sliding a portion of the bars aside to let Adora enter. Handing Adora some kind of remote, she instructs her, “Press this button when you want to leave, or if you’re in need of assistance.”

“Got it,” says Adora. “Thanks.” The guard locks the gate behind Adora and then leaves the cell. Adora watches her go, frowning in thought.

When she turns back around she finds Catra watching her. Her tail flicks and she comments, “Pretty bold of you, coming into my cage without your sword.”

“They wouldn’t let me bring it,” Adora says bitterly, crossing her arms with a scowl. Then her lips twitch sheepishly and she admits, “I might have threatened to break you out if the queen refused to help.”

“Well that was stupid,” remarks Catra. “You don’t threaten to do something that’s supposed to be a surprise, dumbass. Whose bright idea was it to make you a Force Captain, again?”

“Shadow Weaver’s.”

“Right.” Catra’s ears twitch.

Adora sighs. “I was just trying to explain how far I’d go to save you. At that point I wasn’t really thinking about if I actually had to do it, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.”

“So you were bluffing,” mutters Catra. Of course she was. How many times did Adora promise to protect her, only to fail as soon as Shadow Weaver showed up? “Should’ve guessed.”

A light grip on Catra’s wrist makes her look up. “Hey, I meant it,” Adora says earnestly. “I just wasn’t planning that far in advance.”

“Sure, Adora.”

Gaze hardening into a glare, Adora crosses her arms with a huff. “Nice to know it means anything to you at all that I’d risk being banished or worse to guarantee your safety.”

“What do you want me to do, get down on my knees and kiss your feet in gratitude?” sneers Catra.

Adora’s jaw slips open as she stares helplessly at Catra, at a complete loss. Just hours ago she had Catra in her hands. In her arms. And now she’s pushing her away again.

“Why are you being like this?” Her voice cracks slightly and Catra’s eyes flit away, but Adora doesn’t let her off the hook. Stepping closer, she lays a hand on Catra’s shoulder. “Catra, I meant everything I said last night. Didn’t you?”

“What does it matter? We can’t turn back time. We’re still gonna be stuck on opposite sides of a war.” Catra regains eye contact, and her previously harsh voice nearly fails her as she asks, “You’re not coming home, so why bother?”

“Home?” says Adora. “Catra, the Horde was never my home. You were.”

“Oh my gods, just shut up!” shouts Catra, knocking Adora’s hand away. “You don’t get to say things like that, not after what you did. You set fire to our home. You destroyed it. You destroyed me.”

“And I’m trying to fix things! Why won’t you even let me try?”

“Because it’s not fucking fixable!”

“You don’t know that,” argues Adora. When Catra snorts dismissively, her eyes narrow. “You know, I never thought you’d be lazy when it comes to me, but here we are.”

Catra stiffens, face going dangerously dark. “Oh, don’t you fucking dare.”

“What, are you gonna deny it? Either you’re lazy or you’re a coward.”

“No,” scowls Catra, “I just know a lost cause when I see one.”

“Then why did you kiss me?” demands Adora, crossing her arms pompously.

Catra’s eyes fall, jaw shifting. “I felt like it.”

Adora scoffs. “I have never met someone more full of shit.”

“Fine, it’s because I finally had a chance to do it after all that time, without Shadow Weaver looming over us,” admits Catra. She nibbles at her lip. “Figured it would probably be my last chance.”

“Well it will be, if you insist on dying in prison,” retorts Adora. “What, were you _trying_ to get her to execute you?”

“Do I look like I have a death wish?” Catra crosses her arms with a sulky glare. 

Adora scoffs. “Hard to tell when you keep trying to provoke authority figures.”

Catra’s mouth slips open. “Are you saying I deserved the way Shadow Weaver treated me?” she asks, voice cold and low as she stalks forward.

Adora stands her ground. “No, I’m saying you don’t win yourself any favors by being such a fucking brat.”

“I’m not gonna be a meek little submissive prisoner ever again,” declares Catra.

“You think having an attitude makes things better?”

Catra shakes her head, a frustrated chuckle bursting from her lungs. “You don’t get it. You couldn’t even if you tried.”

“I am trying,” insists Adora.

“No you’re not.”

“Well it’s not like you’re trying to understand me either, Catra!”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” asserts Catra. Her eyes bore into Adora, seeking out the truth she already knows. “If I die, you have to deal with the guilt for the rest of your life. Poor, poor Adora. How would you ever recover from such a tragedy? From failing so horribly?”

“Are you saying you’d die just to spite me?” Adora inquires indignantly. Suddenly, she chuckles. “Actually, yeah, that sounds exactly like you.”

“What I’m saying is, it’s all about you. Always has been, always will be,” growls Catra. “Shadow Weaver was always like, ‘Will these feelings for you distract Adora? Will you beating Adora in a training exercise irreparably damage her self-esteem? Adora this, Adora that.’”

“Are you shitting me?” snaps Adora. “My whole fucking life I’ve been cleaning up your messes.”

“I never asked you to!”

“Of course not. You love your messes. But when you kept making trouble, guess who got lectures about being more responsible?”

“Oh that’s right,” Catra cooes mockingly, “you had to keep your naughty little pet in line just so mommy would love you.”

“Fuck you!” Adora’s hands shoot out and shove Catra, sending her stumbling back against the wall. She closes the gap she just created in two large steps and nabs Catra’s collar with one hand, the other tightening into a fist. “Fuck you, Catra!”

Two sets of heavy breaths fill the silence in the small space between them. There’s a rabid look in Adora’s eyes that makes Catra’s go wide. She can feel Adora’s fingers trembling with rage where they rest against her chest. Hers are trembling too, despite her best efforts. There’s a throbbing pain in the back of her head where it smacked against the stone wall, but all her attention is on Adora. Analyzing her breaths and muscle twitches, preparing to block or evade the blow if and when it comes.

Catra’s huge eyes are what break through the blinding rage in Adora’s head. Usually when she gets hold of the pesky Force Captain she’s greeted with a proud smirk, a display of brazen fearlessness. But this expression, she’s only ever seen it directed at one person.

Adora lets go and makes a show of drawing her hands back, pointedly defusing the threat. Then she frowns down at those traitorous hands. This isn’t the first time she’s cocked or swung a fist at Catra outside of sparring or play fighting, but it’s always been part of a larger conflict, and almost always in She-Ra form. Clearly some habits are bleeding over the supposed divide between them.

She risks a glance at Catra, who scowls back at her and pointedly rubs the back of her head. Part of her feels shame. Part of her wants to apologize and ask if she’s okay. But another part of her is still pissed, so she does neither. The shame and Catra’s icy glare do, however, force her eyes away again.

“Hey, Adora?” says Catra, still recovering her breath. “Anyone ever tell you you have anger issues?”

Crossing her arms, Adora grouses, “Like you’re one to talk.”

“At least I take it out on inanimate objects, not other people,” retorts Catra, and Adora is unspeakably grateful in this moment that Catra was not around to witness her punching Glimmer in the face.

It also helps that Catra is fucking wrong.

Scoffing hard, Adora retorts, “Uh, my back would beg to differ.”

Catra waves her off. “We were in battle, Princess. Suck it up.”

“In battle?” Adora pointedly scrunches up her face. “Funny, I don’t remember fighting back when you attacked me in Salineas, but that sure didn’t stop you.”

“When I attacked _you_? I’ve never hurt Adora. Only She-Ra.”

“It wasn’t She-Ra you wanted to hurt. You wanted to hurt me,” states Adora. Softening her tone, she continues, “And I get why, okay? I do. I kinda deserved it. But you should at least have the decency to admit it.”

After a long moment of silent glaring, Catra rolls her eyes. “Fine. I was attacking you. You wouldn’t listen no matter how much I begged and pleaded, you kept saying you wouldn’t come back with me, and it hurt, and I was frustrated. So I lashed out. Happy?”

“Yeah, actually,” says Adora. “Thanks for the honesty.”

Catra narrows her eyes. “Don’t go acting like you have the moral high ground here.”

“I don’t,” Adora assures her. “Look, I’ve been thinking about this all night. All the ways I hurt you and betrayed you. All the ways I failed you.” Reaching out for Catra, she speaks earnestly. “All I want to do is make that up to you.”

Catra lifts a hand, impeding her path. “Then stop trying to control me.”

“What?” Adora blinks hard. “I’m not trying to control you, I’m trying to help you.”

“By getting me to join your princess club, go back to being your pathetic little sidekick.”

“What do you want me to do, let you die?” Adora’s throat aches and swells, forcing her to swallow. “I can’t do that, Catra.”

“It’s not up to you!” snaps Catra. She has just about had it with this fucking bonehead. Narrowing her eyes, she tries to dumb it down, spell it out as best she can. “Adora, you can’t fix everything with brute strength and sheer force of will. You can’t force people to do what you want all the time.” Brushing by Adora and into the more open space of the cell, she mutters, “This is not your decision to make.”

Adora grabs her arm as she slips by, stopping her in her tracks. “Well maybe it should be,” she snarks. “You obviously don’t know what’s best for you.”

Catra’s ears flatten. Yanking her arm from Adora’s grasp, she spins around and steps back, finally out of reach. Her head begins to shake as she stares at Adora in disbelief. “Gods, you’re just like her.”

“Don’t.” Adora’s voice is quiet but dead serious. “Don’t fucking say that.”

“You are. You always have to have things your way, always have to control me.”

“Not you in particular,” grumbles Adora.

“Adora knows best, right?” mutters Catra, not even acknowledging that Adora has spoken.

Adora throws her arms up in frustration. “Why are you acting like it’s a bad thing that I don’t want you to die?”

Again, Catra ignores her. Tipping her head, she demands, “How much further do I need to push you before you bend me over this bed and impart your blessed wisdom because I need to learn what’s best for me? How much more provocation do you need?”

Adora’s eyes bulge as it dawns on her what Catra is implying. “What is wrong with you, Catra? I would never do something like that. Never.”

Catra snorts. “Sure, Adora.”

“Listen,” begs Adora. “Please, listen to me. I’m not trying to control you, okay? It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?”

She squints, unable to fathom Catra not knowing. And here she thought she was an open book. “Don’t you get it? Catra, I’m terrified of losing you.”

“Losing me?” Catra chortles. “Oh, that’s rich.”

Pursing her lips, Adora clarifies, “This would be losing you for good, no more chances to make it right.”

“Oh, Adora,” drawls Catra, shaking her head with a chuckle. “You ran out of chances a long time ago.”

“Then what happened last night?” demands Adora, lifting her chin defiantly. When Catra averts her eyes, her tone turns earnest. “I don’t understand. We were getting somewhere. What did I do wrong?” Taking a cautious step forward, she declares, “Catra, there’s nothing I want more than to fix this.”

“Nothing?” Catra searches Adora’s eyes and finds them full of sincerity. They warm and pull at her heart, urging her to trust once again. But she’s known for years that Adora can absolutely believe she means something only to cave at the last minute for fear of punishment. Or worse, fear of being a bad girl. And besides, she already chose Sparkles and Arrow Boy over Catra anyway. Why would she change her mind now that she really knows them and she’s settled into her cozy new life?

Catra’s ears and shoulders droop with a resigned sigh. “I don’t believe you.”

“Please,” Adora urges her, her voice as desperate as she feels. “Please, just let me fix this…” The immutable nervous energy in her veins forces her to start pacing, grab a fistful of hair with one trembling hand as the other grasps at air.

“It’s not your job to fix me, oh mighty She-Ra,” says Catra, with only a fraction of the taunting energy Adora expected.

Adora’s breathing speeds up, eyes bouncing around the cell as her brain whirs at hyperspeed. If Catra refuses this offer, what else can she even do if she can’t bring in her sword? She can’t fight her way into the prison to save Catra, not without someone sounding an alarm and probably getting herself locked up for real. Not without killing or seriously injuring innocent guards. There’s no coming back from that. There’s no coming back from any of this.

Tears suddenly flood her eyes, blocking her view out the window. A sharp sob crumples her body and she slumps forward against the bars and stone, letting the wall take her weight as she begins full-on ugly crying. But that energy still needs a way out, and her fist smashes into the wall. She punches it again and again, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“Whoa, Adora!” she hears behind her. “Adora, stop!” Slender but strong arms loop around her and pull her away from the bloodied wall. Adora struggles a little but she’s too spent to truly fight back. Catra hugs her tightly from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder. “Adora, hey,” she whispers gently but firmly into her ear. “Breathe. Adora, breathe.”

The confidence in Catra’s voice shocks Adora into obedience. It leaves no doubt in her mind that Catra knows what she’s doing, that she’s in good hands. And good arms. She melts into them, letting Catra hold her steady. It’s just like with Bow. When her mind is filled with chaos and her body wants to dissolve into frenetic movement, being held still by someone she trusts is the ultimate comfort.

Wait, she trusts Catra? Well, she must. The Force Captain’s fangs are inches from her throat, but the proximity is calming, if anything. Adora pushes out a slow breath. Her fingers still tremble, but at least she has control of her lungs back.

Catra brushes a thumb over one of Adora’s biceps. “Let’s sit, okay?” Adora wants to answer, but her mouth refuses to move. She settles for nodding.

Catra takes Adora’s hand and leads her to the bed, sits her down and then settles beside her. Wrapping one arm around Adora’s shoulders, her other hand gently squeezes both of Adora’s, which are clasped in her lap. Feeling them quiver slightly, she takes a look at Adora’s face. Her eyes are distant, darting about. Before she can regress into another full blown panic attack, Catra quickly says, “Name three things you can see.”

Adora blinks and catches her eye. “What?”

“Do it,” orders Catra. It’s a technique Scorpia taught her after she witnessed that meltdown following her rather violent encounter with Shadow Weaver the morning after the battle. Catra wishes she’d befriended Scorpia sooner. She could have used this trick in the days and weeks following Adora’s defection.

“Bars. Chairs,” says Adora. Her eyes fall to their linked hands. “Blood.”

Catra breathes steadily in the hope that Adora will follow her lead. “Okay, two things you can hear.”

“Heartbeat. Birds outside.”

Catra nods, squeezing Adora’s shoulder encouragingly. “One thing you can feel.”

“You’re so warm,” Adora whispers, voice cracking. She tips sideways to lean into Catra, tears streaming from her eyes. They drip down her cheeks and onto Catra’s arm as she wraps it around Adora’s stomach.

Holding Adora tight, Catra rests her chin atop her head and rubs comforting circles over her arm and side. “Shh. I got you,” she murmurs, recalling the words that used to bring her so much comfort as a sad, scared kitten. “I got you. It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it won’t,” sniffles Adora. Her voice cracks again as she implores, “Catra, please. Please don’t leave me.” She breaks down into another round of sobs, squeezing Catra’s shirt tightly in her fist.

Rolling her eyes is Catra’s immediate and irrepressible reaction. Equally strong is the urge to ram those words back down Adora’s throat. The gall this bitch has, to say something like that. But Catra somehow manages to keep her mouth shut. Because as good as she is at holding grudges, they’ve never stopped her from taking pity on people who have hurt her. For them to have hurt her, after all, they must have meant something to her in the first place. The sad fact is, no matter how much she hates Adora (or wants to hate her), she hates seeing her in pain even more.

“Shh,” she whispers, planting a kiss atop Adora’s head. “I’m here.” _For now, anyway._

Those are the most comforting words Catra can offer, because she doesn’t want to lie to Adora. Consoling her with false hope would only be cruel at this point. Catra can’t guarantee anything, because even now she’s sure as shit not taking Angella’s offer. This sympathy she feels for Adora, hates feeling for Adora, it’s not enough to make her give in. She’s spent her whole life giving ground, allowing herself to be used and abused for Adora’s benefit. Not anymore.

Besides, if Catra gives in for Adora’s sake then she’ll never stop resenting her. And for the first time in a long time, she’s not sure if she wants to anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sad chapter, but I think it’s important to examine the way growing up in an abusive environment gives people massive control issues and terrible conflict resolution skills, and how children of abusive parents often absorb some of their worst qualities (ruling by force/abject cruelty, in this case). Don’t fret, though. Things will soon be looking up. ;)
> 
> Thanks to [Revelation_Dis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revelation_Dis/pseuds/Revelation_Dis) for the beta read. If you like your shit dark or you like wacky crack fics, their page is the place to be! I especially recommend the series [The Violation](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1375444) and the one shot [Death Like Sleep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442641) (but that second one only if you want to be absolutely destroyed lol).


	11. Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING for one vaguely described scene of violence and that’s about it.

The daytime moon sits low in the horizon over the Whispering Woods, heralding the end of another day. The aching in Adora’s legs informs her how long she’s been walking just as much as the fading daylight, but they continue to move forward, driven by a promise. _“If you need me, you will always know where to find me.”_

So far, that promise has proven to be false. Adora probably deserves that.

She could have brought Swift Wind. Not only would he have made the journey faster and saved her the energy of walking, he and Razz seem to have some kind of connection. Maybe he would have known where to find her. But Adora so did not feel like talking, especially to a revolutionary unicorn who never shuts up or allows her to brood.

Still, she’s starting to question the wisdom of taking this journey alone. The woods don’t shift anymore now that they’re frozen, so she’s not lost, but it’s not like she has all the time in the world to spare looking for this place. Catra said the queen promised her some time to think about the offer, but she also said she wasn’t going to take it, again and again. Eventually Angella’s patience will run out and things will go from bad to worse.

They didn’t talk much, after Adora’s breakdown. Not after a few more weak pleas that Catra gently shut down, placing kisses in Adora’s hair. Adora had lost all strength to argue and there wasn’t much else to say, so she just let Catra hold her until her stubborn brain finally surrendered and she fell into a restless slumber.

_“Hey. Adora, hey.” Catra’s voice filtered into Adora’s consciousness, growing louder as she surfaced. “Wake up.” Adora could feel Catra’s hands on her arms, gently shaking her, but it was a moment longer before the dream state released her from her paralysis. When it did her eyes popped open with a gasp, flicking about to match her erratic breathing._

_“Hey, it’s okay,” Catra assured her with a hand on her cheek. “Nothing to be scared of, it’s just me.” That was quite ironic, given how much effort Catra had put into intimidating her for the last couple months, but Adora was hardly in any state to sass her. Her heart was in her throat, the horrific scene still flickering behind her eyelids. A masked man. A rope. Bulging blue and yellow eyes. A scream dying in her own throat._

_A tickling sensation shocked Adora back to the moment. She recoiled, but Catra’s hand held her in place as her raspy tongue continued licking Adora’s cheek. “Ew, stop,” Adora protested as she fended her off halfheartedly, which only prompted more licks. Adora shuddered in a mix of arousal and disgust as Catra’s tongue dragged under her jaw, and she couldn’t help but jerk away as the tip flicked over a sensitive patch on her neck. “Stop, that tickles!”_

_A satisfied chuckle rumbled out of Catra and she relaxed back into Adora’s side. Adora rolled her eyes and tried to hold back a smile, finally able to take a deep breath. A claw lightly tracing her jawline made her eyes flit to the side, finding Catra watching her closely. “Nightmares?”_

_“Mm,” grunted Adora._

_“What about?”_

_Weighing her options for a moment, Adora decided to answer honestly. “Your execution.”_

_Catra’s sigh was one of exhaustion more than irritation. “I don’t wanna argue about this again.”_

_“Neither do I. You asked,” Adora pointed out. Catra conceded the point with a nod and an eye roll, flopping back onto the mattress. Even lying shoulder to shoulder on the cramped bed, Adora immediately missed the contact. Turning onto her side, she absentmindedly dragged her fingertips over Catra’s belly before flattening her palm atop it. “You sleep?”_

_“Nah,” Catra said casually, eyes on the ceiling. “Someone had to watch over you.”_

_Adora was vaguely aware of her mouth slipping open, her thumb going still atop Catra’s stomach. Mostly she was aware of the swelling feeling in her chest. It hurt, but in a good way. Adora’s grip on Catra’s shirt tightened as her eyes drank in this girl she’d never realized was so strong. Clearly, that was her own ignorance. She was only starting to understand how much Catra’s been protecting her all along._

_Despite Catra’s obvious efforts not to look at Adora, when there was no answer her eyes flicked over to gauge her reaction. Adora gave her a genuine smile and, after a moment, she smiled back. Squeezing Catra’s wrist softly with her free hand pinned between them, Adora told her, “I need to go.”_

_“Let me guess, back to your glittery girlfriend?” It was meant to be a joke, but there was an obvious strain behind Catra’s smirk._

_Adora gave her a look. “Seriously?”_

_Averting her eyes, Catra twitched her lips guiltily. “Sorry.”_

_“And no, if you must know. We’re not exactly on speaking terms right now.” Rolling the fabric of Catra’s tunic between her thumb and forefinger, Adora frowned. “I need to go because I’m wasting time here.”_

_Ears drooping, Catra’s face fell for a split second before it hardened. “Right.”_

_“Hey, I don’t mean it like that,” said Adora, hand moving to rest on her cheek. “I like being here with you. But if you’re not going to help me, I need to find someone who will.” Catra was still scowling and pointedly looking away, so Adora turned her face, demanding eye contact. When Catra grudgingly gave in, Adora leaned in close and smiled. “But thank you for the rest. I needed that.”_

_Before she could think better of it or Catra could protest, Adora quickly pecked her on the lips. Catra’s shocked expression was worth the butterflies suddenly fluttering around in Adora’s gut, and she grinned reflexively. Standing and stretching, she straightened her clothes and found the remote to summon the guard. Looking over her shoulder as she pressed the button, she found Catra still staring mutely. Adora couldn’t help throwing her a smug little smirk as the door opened. Some things never change._

*

_The mood in the locker room was jubilant. The five of them shared high fives as they shed their gear, then proceeded to reenact key moments from their victory in the showers. It was one of the best simulations they’d ever run as a squad, a great coordinated group effort. Even Kyle had pitched in and managed not to die. But Catra was the hero of the hour, no question. She’d swooped down from the rafters and taken out several bots that had ambushed the others, absolutely trashing the machines with her claws._

_Even Lonnie was openly impressed. On her way out she swatted Catra’s ass and chirped, “Nice moves, Nine Lives.”_

_Catra flashed her a toothy grin. “You weren’t so bad yourself, dipshit.” Lonnie laughed as she exited, the rare but sweet sound echoing into the room even once the door shut behind her._

_One foot propped up on the bench, Adora smiled down at it as she tightened her shoelaces. It was nice to see Catra and Lonnie getting along for once, their rivalry put aside in the wake of such a victory. She liked them both and hated being in the middle of a constant conflict, tasked with keeping the peace as the de facto leader of the squad._

_As she finished tying her shoes her eyes flicked over to Catra, who was grabbing clean clothes out of her locker, clad only in her bra and underwear. Something heavy settled deep in Adora’s stomach, her mouth going dry. With no one around to observe the indiscretion, her eyes suddenly got very greedy. They raked over Catra’s lean but defined muscles, visible even through her short coat, and settled on her rounded ass as she bent over and started to pull up her leggings. It must’ve been all muscle, given the tremendous power she carried in her legs. Adora could only imagine how firm it must be._

_Adora had long envied Lonnie’s confidence, and now she found herself jealous of the girl’s hand, too. Could she so casually pull that off? No, casual and Adora do not mix. Feeling her face heat up, she averted her eyes and groaned internally. Why did she feel so pathetic? It wasn’t because Catra had outdone her in the simulation. No, she was actually really proud of her. Truth was, she felt pathetic because she was a coward. She knew what she wanted to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it._

_Adora had only found out what a kiss was recently, and ever since she’d wondered what it would be like to kiss Catra. She’d imagined kissing several of her fellow cadets, actually, but Catra was the one who kept cycling back in her thoughts over and over again. Even if she couldn’t muster the courage to kiss her, all she wanted was to be close to her. As close as possible, as often as possible. She’d always been that way with Catra, but was only starting to understand why._

_Taking a deep breath, Adora rounded the bench and laid a hand on Catra’s shoulder. “Hey, you did great today.” Catra turned to face her and Adora did her very best to focus on Catra’s eyes, not the tuft of thicker fur trailing down from her belly button. Lucky for her, Catra’s eyes were so magnetizing that it wasn’t that difficult._

_Catra brushed this off with a scoff. “Yeah, we all did great.” The sudden perkiness of her ears gave away her true feelings, but Adora didn’t tease her about it._

_“No, but you especially,” insisted Adora. “You were our hero.”_

_Now Catra’s cheeks started to fill with color and Adora smiled fondly, lifting her hand from Catra’s shoulder to scratch behind her ear. Catra purred, pushing her head into Adora’s hand, and Adora thought her heart might burst. Her giggle was half nerves, half blinding affection._

_Slowly sliding her hand down to cup Catra’s cheek, Adora took a moment to muster her resolve and stare at that beautiful face. Eyes fluttering shut, she finally leaned in to press her lips against Catra’s. After a couple seconds she pulled back with a shy smile, searching Catra’s face for a reaction. Catra looked stunned, but Adora couldn’t tell if it was in a good or a bad way. Her nerves brought out another giggle and she ducked her head before flicking her eyes up yet again. Catra was still staring at her in shock._

_“Um, well, I guess I’ll see you at dinner?” she asked. Catra nodded mutely and Adora brushed a thumb over the soft fuzz on her cheekbone before reluctantly pulling away. “Okay,” she smiled. “Don’t be late.”_

Adora’s smile at the memory fades into a frown, now that she knows what happened after. What that bold move on her part subjected Catra to. Shaking her head, she tries to push it from her mind. Like Catra said, there’s nothing she can do about it now, no use beating herself up over it. The best thing she can do is find a way to settle that debt in the present. But beating herself up comes so naturally.

A familiar humming filters through the trees, breaking Adora’s reverie. Grinning in relief, she rushes toward the noise. Reaching the edge of a clearing, she spies Madame Razz sweeping the forest floor around her hut, just like the first time she found her. The witch’s head perks up and she looks around. “Who’s there?” she calls.

“Hi, Madame Razz,” Adora greets her, stepping out of the foliage. “Do you remember me? My name’s Adora, I carry the sword of-”

“She-Ra,” interjects Razz. “Oh yes, I recall. What brings you here, dearie?”

“Uh, well…” Adora scratches the back of her head. “I’m having kind of a hard time making a decision, and I wanted a neutral third party I can trust to talk to about it.”

Razz titters as she scuttles closer to Adora. “You want advice from little old me?”

“Yes, yes please,” says Adora. “I really would.”

Nudging Adora’s side, Razz teases her, “And here I thought you were past the stage of running away into the woods to get advice from old ladies you don’t know.”

“I do know you,” Adora counters immediately, flashing what she hopes is a charming smile. The old witch might be too blind to tell the difference, anyway.

Razz seems to think on this for a second before releasing a loud laugh. “That you do. Come along, then.” Grabbing Adora’s hand, she tugs with a surprising strength that nearly sends Adora flying. Adora yelps and regains her balance, allowing the much shorter woman to tow her into the hut.

Sitting Adora down, Razz rummages around for some cups and a pitcher of… something. Handing Adora a drink, she sits beside her with one of her own. “Now, what seems to be troubling you, dearie?”

Taking a deep breath, Adora begins, “I don’t know if you know this, but I grew up in the Horde. I only left recently, after I found the sword and learned about all the terrible things they were doing. Well, my best friend, she’s high up in the Horde and she got captured in Bright Moon last night when she was there talking to me. I’m afraid of what they might do to her, but if I let her go she’s probably going to attack Bright Moon again as soon as she gets the chance.”

“So you’re torn between loyalties,” surmises Razz.

“Yes, but it’s more complicated than that. Catra - that’s my friend - I owe her a lot. I’ve broken promises to her, and she’s suffered in my place. And she’s only who and where she is now because of circumstances she couldn’t control. She’s not a bad person, but she’s had a bad life.” Adora chews on her lip, fingers incessantly tapping her knee. “I have a chance to make something go right for her for once, make things a little more fair. Maybe if I do, she’ll change her ways, but that’s probably just wishful thinking. Chances are I’ll have to fight her again and I’ll be an idiot who let her take advantage of me. But… everything has just been so unfair, for so long. And she wasn’t even in Bright Moon to attack us, I don’t think she deserves to be locked up right now.”

Razz peers up at Adora and takes a pointed glug from her cup. “You said she led the attack against Bright Moon.”

“Okay, maybe she does,” admits Adora. “But she was captured when she was there to see me. Of course I’m the reason she’s in trouble, again.” Pausing to think, Adora sips her drink. Her face contorts at the sour flavor but she forces herself to swallow. “I feel like I have a duty to fix this, but I also have a duty to the queen.”

“She-Ra doesn’t work for the queen,” Razz remarks neutrally, “she works for Etheria.”

Adora squints. “But I swore fealty to her and her cause.”

“Because you have the same enemy, for now. It doesn’t mean you’re fighting the same fight,” Razz says sagely. “The job of She-Ra is to restore balance to Etheria. And you, you have a good heart. Of course you are torn between righting past wrongs and preventing future wrongs. I would expect nothing less.”

Sighing heavily, Adora buries her face in her hands. “Razz, I don’t know what to do.”

“Still scared, I see,” observes Razz.

“What? N-” Adora cuts herself off at Razz’s knowing expression. Her eyes and shoulders fall. “Yes. No matter what I do, someone’s probably gonna get hurt. I don’t even know what I want, let alone what’s right.”

“And you think I can tell you what’s right?” Razz laughs and pinches Adora’s cheek. “Dearie, you have a better sense of right and wrong than almost anyone I’ve met. But you’re afraid to trust yourself.”

“What if I’m wrong? What if I make the wrong choice and people die because of me?” Scowling over her shoulder at the hilt of her weapon, Adora laments, “I can’t handle being She-Ra! Why did this stupid sword have to choose me?”

Now Razz pats her cheek gently, huge eyes staring at her intently from behind her glasses. Holding Adora’s gaze steadily, she assures her, “You are exactly the kind of person who should have this power. People who grab at power for their own ends, they can’t be trusted. All you want is to do the right thing, and the sword lets you do that.” Razz smiles. “Trust yourself, Adora. I do.”

“You do?” Adora can’t believe it, even when Razz nods in agreement. “But you knew Mara. You know how things can turn out when a She-Ra makes bad decisions.”

“Mara was afraid of her power,” says Razz. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind Adora’s ear, she advises her, “Don’t you make the same mistake, now.”

***

Castle Bright Moon is bathed in twilight when Adora sneaks back onto the grounds. Maybe she doesn’t need to sneak, she has every right to be here (at least for now), but somehow she fears that anyone who sees her will be able to read her mind.

The walk back wasn’t nearly as long, now that she knew where she was going, but it was long enough to begin forming a plan. Planning is coming much easier now that she’s had a few hours sleep (thanks to Catra) and a boost of confidence (thanks to Razz). If there’s anything Adora’s good at, it’s forming a battle plan.

Sitting at her desk, Adora takes a deep breath to settle herself. Is she really going to do this? More to the point, can she live with herself if she doesn’t? She lied to Razz, earlier. She was lying to herself too, but here in her room it’s impossible to keep up the charade. She’s still not entirely sure what’s right, but she definitely knows what she wants. It’s time to be decisive, to stop being paralyzed by self-doubt. To stop being a coward.

All that in mind, Adora sets to work. She begins drawing diagrams and flowcharts, gnawing on her pencil as she analyzes every potential variable she can think of, looking for any flaw in her burgeoning plan. There are several, and she ends up scowling at the paper and penciling in possible fixes more than once. It takes her over an hour to work through all the details, the sky fading to black outside her window.

Finally confident she’s accounted for any and all possibilities, Adora gets ready to carry out the plan. She starts by pulling three fresh sheets of paper from her desk. If she’s going to betray Bright Moon like this, she at least owes her friends and allies a decent explanation and a proper goodbye.

The last letter is the hardest to write, despite its addressee being the one she is least close to. Penning these words gives her a sick feeling in her gut. It’s like letting down Shadow Weaver, only worse.

_Your Majesty,_

_I am sorry to disappoint you, I know I promised not to. You’ve been nothing but kind and accommodating to me since I left the Horde, and I can’t thank you enough for giving me a new home. Betraying your kingdom and your trust is the last thing I ever wanted to do, but I made a promise long ago to stand by Catra and protect her, and I can’t betray her or my conscience any longer._

_I apologize for doing this after you put your faith in Glimmer when she vouched for me. Please don’t blame her for this. She’s a good ruler, all she’s ever done is try to protect her kingdom. Please know that I intend to do the same - I have released Catra, but I will do my best to shield Bright Moon from the Horde from afar, even if that means fighting her again. I am still an ally in your fight, even if I can no longer be part of the Princess Alliance._

_Yours in good faith,_  
_~~She-Ra~~_  
_Adora_

Adora frowns as she considers where to leave the letters. If Glimmer pops in for a late night follow-up argument she doesn’t want them to be discovered prematurely. After a moment of deliberation, she tucks them under her pillow and stuffs the incriminating plans under her mattress.

Her limbs feel like they weigh a thousand pounds as she moves about the room, gathering supplies. A few changes of clothes, some snacks, extra hair ties, her dagger she sleeps with. She packs Catra’s shirt too, frowning briefly at the glinting Force Captain badge but leaving it be. She’s about to zip up the backpack when her eyes settle on the line of war table battle figures perched on one of her shelves.

Tears blurring her vision, Adora fingers the tiny figurines so carefully crafted by Bow. For a moment she can’t help second guessing herself, wondering if it’s really worth it. She’s seriously risking losing two friends, and she sure can’t count on gaining Catra. Even if their last interaction was pleasant, the last 24 hours have taught her it’s impossible to predict how an encounter with Catra will unfold.

Squeezing her stinging eyes shut, Adora steels herself and resolves to follow through. This is the sacrifice she’s making. She left Catra alone. If she has to be alone now to try to fix what she broke, then so be it. Grazing her fingers over the figurines one more time, Adora forces a smile and bids them goodbye. She plucks the mini She-Ra from the shelf and adds it to her bag, a memento of her time with the Best Friend Squad. She leaves Adora with Bow and Glimmer. That’s how she wants them to remember her, anyway.

Sheathing her sword, Adora slides her arms through the straps of her backpack. Eyes sweeping around the room one last time, she tries to burn every last detail into her memory. Then she turns and leaves, decisively shutting the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all wanted fluff? Have your goddamn fluff ffs. *throws chapter* j/k I love fluff, it just needs to be earned and properly placed.
> 
> Tune in next time to find out Adora’s plan and if it succeeds. A large chunk of chapter 12 is already written, so it shouldn't be too long.


	12. Something New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is kinda weird, half Adora-centric and half Catradora dual POV. Don’t get tripped up when it switches. I thought about splitting it up but honestly the Adora stuff on its own would not be a satisfying chapter at all and it would cut off in the middle of the action, so I left it.
> 
> That being said, this chapter is pivotal in many ways and I'm suuuuuuper excited for you all to read it.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for emotional child abuse, as well as some pretty unsavory remarks about Magicats (i.e. coded racism). There’s a bit of sexist/vaguely homophobic banter as well.

Something many people don’t know about Adora is just how easily overwhelmed she is. When there are too many things happening, or too many uncontrollable variables to consider, her whole body starts thrumming with nervous energy and she has a hard time thinking clearly. Usually she can fight through it without showing too much weakness, but if it gets to be too much, one of two things will happen: a) she’ll have an outburst of anger and frustration, yelling and throwing things, or b) she’ll shut down and stop functioning entirely, either melting into a puddle of tears or exiting reality completely.

It was a problem back in the Horde, when she was a young child. These tantrums and shutdowns would have been considered bad behavior for any cadet, but they were especially problematic given Shadow Weaver’s obsession with Adora becoming a high-ranking officer. Adora was never sure why Shadow Weaver chose to focus on her, if it was her natural athleticism or something else, but her athleticism certainly didn’t provide her the calm state of mind she needed to make decisions under pressure. While she appreciated Shadow Weaver’s faith in her, sometimes she envied the cadets Shadow Weaver had no expectations for. Like Catra.

On the other hand, Adora knew she was foolish to envy them. Shadow Weaver was patient with Adora, by her standards. Instead of hauling off and smacking her for misbehaving, she taught Adora tricks to help her stay calm. She also expressed profound disappointment in Adora’s immaturity, but Adora knew guilt trips and shaming were better than getting hit, and she was grateful for that.

_“It’s nearly time for dinner, Force Captain Adora,” Shadow Weaver called playfully from the doorway. “Time to clean up.”_

_Huge blue eyes swept over the massive battle scene. Vehicles and figurines were strewn everywhere, cluttering the floor and her field of view. The mere thought of trying to organize this chaos overwhelmed her senses. Panic began rising in Adora’s tiny chest, tears welling up in her eyes. “I can’t.”_

_“You can, and you must,” insisted Shadow Weaver. “Those are the rules. It’s your mess, you clean it up.”_

_“I can’t!” Adora shouted, throwing the miniature tank she was holding across the room. It hit the metal wall with a loud bang and Shadow Weaver’s eyes flashed an even brighter white. “It’s too big!”_

_“Of course you can,” snapped Shadow Weaver. “Don’t be a baby.” The harsh tone combined with Adora’s existing distress made her lip quiver, her tears now spilling over. There she was, crying like a baby in the middle of the floor. So much for being a big girl. Adora liked to think she was responsible for a five year-old, but she couldn’t even handle her superior’s reprimands. Her head hung in shame._

_Sighing heavily, Shadow Weaver crouched down in front of Adora. “Let’s try something new. Do you think you can tidy up all the tanks?”_

_Wiping her dribbling nose, Adora sniffled. “Uh huh.”_

_“Then start with that.” Once Adora had returned them all to the correct toy boxes, Shadow Weaver gave her an approving nod. “There. Now all the skiffs.”_

_The clean up proceeded in this same fashion. All the bots. All the soldiers. All the princesses. When Adora had returned the last box to the shelf, Shadow Weaver said, “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” When Adora looked away, still sulking a little, Shadow Weaver tipped her chin up to make eye contact, hardening her voice. “Was it?”_

_Adora gulped. “No, Shadow Weaver.”_

_“Good girl.” Shadow Weaver tucked some flyaway strands of blonde behind Adora’s ear, looking at her with what appeared to be a thoughtful expression. Finally she asked, “Adora, how do you think Force Captains take charge of huge battles?”_

_“I dunno,” shrugged Adora, averting her eyes as she wiped her nose once more._

_“Well it’s not by throwing things and crying about it, that’s for certain. What they do is break up big jobs into small jobs they can take care of more easily. Then they can give other soldiers they trust those small tasks to take care of, if they want. That’s called delegation. So if you were commanding a mission with your squad, you could delegate tasks to Lonnie, for instance. Tell her what to do.”_

_Adora perked up. “Or Catra?”_

_Shadow Weaver paused, and though Adora couldn’t see the frown behind her mask, she sensed it in the way her body tensed. She shrank back a little, intimately familiar with Shadow Weaver’s body language and what preceded a physical strike. But Shadow Weaver relaxed, though her voice was still a bit strained as she agreed, “Yes, or Catra. If she’s not too busy chasing mice or flashlights to pay attention for more than five seconds.”_

_That made Adora frown, her brow creasing in thought. She’d never seen Catra chase flashlights. And what were mice? It seemed like Shadow Weaver was making fun of Catra, but she wasn’t making any sense._

_“Now, you also have to think about the order of your tasks,” continued Shadow Weaver, distracting Adora from her bewilderment. “Smart Force Captains break their plans down into stages, or phases. It’s like with the toys. If they try to think about the whole battle at once, it can be hard to focus on what they need to do right then. So they make a plan of what they will do first, then second, and so on. Once they have those phases outlined, they brainstorm different ways of approaching them. Different tactics, is the word we use.”_

_Adora nodded, eyes wide as she absorbed all of this and tried to remember as much as she could. There were a lot of words she didn’t know, but if she could remember them all she could look them up later or ask one of the older cadets. “Thank you, Shadow Weaver,” she said, voice full of wonder. “You’re so smart.”_

_“So are you, young one,” her mentor assured her, giving her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “You’re going to be a great Force Captain one day, aren’t you?”_

_“Yes, ma’am!” she agreed eagerly._

_“Good girl. You go on and get your dinner, now.” As Adora scampered toward the door, Shadow Weaver’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Adora. Wash that face first, young lady. Show no weakness.”_

_Adora gave her a proud salute and a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”_

Shadow Weaver was far from perfect, Adora’s known that since before she even left the Fright Zone. But this strategy was one of the most valuable lessons Shadow Weaver ever taught her. After thirteen years of using it successfully, Adora can only hope tonight is not the time it fails her.

Collection and deployment of supplies was Phase One - filling her backpack and stashing it in the Whispering Woods. Simple enough. Phase Two, getting her sword past the guards at the prison's main gate, is bound to be the hardest. She has several tactics at her disposal, most of them dishonest in one way or another. Feigning ignorance, intimidation, lying, manipulation, preying on fears, gaining trust through false camaraderie…

On the contrary, Adora has sworn not to use any dishonest tactics on Catra, no matter what. Getting her to agree to the plan is Phase Three. While Adora predicts it will go smoother than Phase Two, she can never entirely predict how Catra will react to anything, especially these days. Sometimes Adora’s drive to succeed will blind her to the cost of her actions, but imposing her will on Catra would be far too high a cost. It would undermine everything she wants to communicate to her. All the ways she wants to do better.

Strolling up to the gate, Adora fights a losing battle to keep her face and shoulders relaxed. _Show no weakness. Act naturally, Adora, for fuck’s sakes._ Unfortunately, it’s kind of hard to act naturally when her body language is tense even in her most relaxed state. That’s what she gets for being a soldier, and a nervous wreck.

“Hi,” she says to the pair of guards monitoring the prison entrance, doing her best to paste on a smile that’s pleasant and not maniacal. Addressing the one who looks like she’s in charge, Adora continues, “I’m here to visit Force Captain Catra. Queen Angella gave me permission this afternoon to stay with her overnight.”

Given Angella never approved that request when Adora first made it this morning, she had to go get it cleared after her nap with Catra. She may have exaggerated Catra’s willingness to negotiate with her a little (okay, a lot) when Angella pressed her for details, but she had good reason. Obviously, she wanted an excuse to go back. Additionally, she feared that if she told Angella the truth, Angella wouldn’t allow her back into the prison for fear she’d resort to drastic action. That was before Adora decided to take such drastic action, of course, but here she is.

“Yes, we were informed you were coming to continue negotiations,” the guard replies. There’s a haughty edge to her voice and her expression’s as cold as ice. She could really give Frosta a run for her money, snootiness and all.

“Great,” says Adora, stepping up to the gate. The hand she feels on her shoulder immediately informs her that feigning ignorance did not work.

“We were also informed that you are not permitted to bring the sword into the prison,” the guard continues.

“Really?” Adora blinks up at her bewilderedly. “I was under the impression I just couldn’t take it into the cell with me,” she lies smoothly, or so she hopes. She’s always been a terrible liar, hence this being a backup tactic. “It’s not like I can get in there on my own, anyway. I don’t have the code.”

The guard stands up taller, utilizing every inch of height she has over Adora. “Those are my orders. Is this going to be a problem, She-Ra?”

“Hey, I don’t want any problems, but this is stupid. If Force Captain Catra was here on some secret mission for the Horde, she would’ve been due back sometime today,” reasons Adora. “So we can assume they know that we have her, and the Whispering Woods is still in shambles. It would be unwise to delay She-Ra’s arrival if they show up to rescue her. They could easily storm the castle by the time I have the chance to transform.”

“We have the protection spell,” the other guard chimes in, stepping up beside his partner.

“That sure didn’t stop Catra,” Adora points out. “The barrier only fries their technology. Trust me, most of their foot soldiers are plenty capable in hand-to-hand. We lived and breathed that shit our whole childhoods.”

The first guard squints down at her. “Yet you think it’s a good idea to sleep with the Force Captain.”

“I took a nap earlier today and it was fine,” shrugs Adora. “But…” Shifting her eyes about, she steps closer and whispers, “Sometimes she’s fine, but others… well, she has these mood swings, you know?”

Adora really didn’t want to resort to this tactic, but she’s not surprised it came to this. There was one word that showed up on many of her flow charts, one weakness that she knew she had to exploit if need be. Something she observed first in Shadow Weaver, then in the Horde at large, and unfortunately now in Bright Moon. Speciesism.

“I don’t know if it’s heat cycles or something, but sometimes she just goes off,” Adora confides in a soft murmur, rolling her eyes. “Like, we had an argument when I visited this morning and I was barely able to talk her down before she started swiping at me. I want the sword nearby, just in case she goes feral again.” Adora throws the guards a little smirk. “It’s the best way to tame her, so to speak.”

Adora has to strain to keep a smile on her face, her stomach gurgling in protest at those awful words. Catra doesn’t even have heat cycles, that’s just a dumb stereotype some humans have about certain kinds of hybrids. The same kind of humans who call Adora and Kyle furries. Granted, Catra gets extremely cranky when she’s on the rag, but then again so does Adora.

The male guard laughs but the female narrows her eyes, and for a second Adora thinks she’s overdone it. It was probably the taming part. That was way too harsh, she’s obviously trying too hard to act like a trash human-

“If that’s how you feel I’m surprised you two are so… close,” the guard finally remarks. Then she shakes her head. “But I guess we all have our particular tastes. Far be it for me to judge.” A smirk crawls onto her lips as she tips her head, continuing to eye Adora. “I can see why claws and sharp teeth would be incentive enough for some people to overlook everything else.”

Grinning lewdly, Adora gives her side a fraternal little nudge. “You read my mind, sister.”

“If she is in heat, you sure you’ll be enough?” the guy asks with a provocative smirk. He nods down at Adora’s ill-equipped nether regions. “Not like you have much to give her.”

“Grant,” snaps his partner, elbowing him in the ribs. “Don’t be disrespectful.” That’s hilarious given the shit they were just saying about Catra, but okay.

Smirking up at Grant, Adora retorts, “If you think you need a dick to pleasure a female partner, you’re probably not much of a lover.”

Grant’s mouth falls open in protest and both women share a laugh at his expense. “Sorry, but she’s right,” says the other guard.

Still chuckling as she turns back to Adora, she seemingly remembers the conversation at hand as her eyes flash to Adora’s shoulder. Straightening up, she relents, “I suppose as long as the sword stays outside the cell it won’t be a problem. But I’ll escort you to make sure you don’t cause any trouble along the way,” she adds, giving Adora a pointed look that says she still has doubts about her.

“Not a problem, ma’am,” Adora says with a salute and a smile. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

Snorting as his partner flips through her keys, Grant remarks, “Only for the Force Captain. That’s one way to negotiate, alright.”

Adora’s blush is genuine, but it helps sell the lie.

The other guard ushers her through the prison hallways, stun gun pointed vaguely in Adora’s direction. It’s unnerving, and not just because she’s on the wrong end of it. She’s still not used to seeing those in the hands of rebellion guards. The guards at the checkpoint into the maximum security sector either didn’t get the memo or are subordinate to the first guard, because they say nothing about Adora’s sword.

When they make it to Catra’s cell, the guard posted at the door raises his eyebrows and the first guard explains, “She-Ra is concerned the Horde may come for the prisoner and wants her sword nearby so she can transform quickly if necessary. I allowed it so long as the sword stays outside the cell.” Turning to Adora, she pointedly holds out her hand. “Sorry, but you’re not using the sacred sword for any funny business. If you need a weapon to tame your pet, you’re not much of a master anyway.”

“What? That’s not what I-” A combination of embarrassment and anger makes Adora flush as red as her jacket. Scowling at the infuriatingly ignorant guard, she hands over the sword. “Fine.” It’s not like it matters, she has backup plans upon backup plans. Having the sword outside the cell is good enough.

“It will be returned to you only once the door is secured behind you on your way out,” says the guard, making eye contact with her subordinate to make sure he understands as well. Eyeing Adora once more, she adds, “You won’t be able to break through without setting off an alarm and summoning the whole Royal Guard, so don’t get any ideas.”

“I don’t plan to, but that’s good to know,” remarks Adora, arching a sassy eyebrow and immediately regretting it. Catra must be rubbing off on her. Shadow Weaver was right about her being a bad influence, in one way or another.

Thankfully, her escort reacts with only a smirk. She thinks she’s won, thinks she’s covered all her bases. Adora has her right where she wants her.

The door guard punches in the code to access the cell, an extra security measure for the most dangerous criminals. An hour ago it was the source of a lot of hand wringing and hair pulling for Adora. But she’s thought her way around that, too. The smile she gives the door guard is genuine, if a tad evil underneath. She has him right where she wants him, too.

Catra is curled up on her bed, watching the door when Adora steps into the cell. She smiles at the sight, and in return Adora gives her a nervous smile that she can only hope passes for casual.

It definitely doesn’t. Catra knows Adora too damn well. She watches curiously as Adora approaches the bars. “Hey,” says Adora. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Catra agrees nonchalantly, sitting up on the edge of the bed. The guard locks himself in the room with them and they follow the same procedure as before. Once he’s handed over the remote and left, Catra stands and peers into Adora’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

A genuine smile of relief comes over Adora’s face. She’s here and her sword is just outside the door. She’s more than okay. “I’m actually good, yeah.”

Catra’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “If you’re here to try to get me to join the princess brigade again, the answer is still no.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” When Catra raises an eyebrow, Adora eases into her space and continues, “I’m here to prove you wrong. There really is nothing I want more than to make up for everything I put you through.” Laying a hand on Catra’s shoulder, she tells her, “You don’t understand how much I love you. And that’s my fault.”

Catra’s face strains with effort as she concentrates on keeping her ears and tail from twitching. “What ever happened to ‘not my fault’?” she jokes.

“This actually is,” says Adora. “I was wrong to leave you in Thaymor. I should’ve gone back with you so you didn’t get in trouble, tried to convince you to leave with me later. I should’ve done so many things.” Adora can’t help wrapping her arms around herself and looking away. “It’s fair for you to doubt how I feel about you.”

A massive sigh calls her gaze back, and she finds Catra dragging her palms down her face. “Look…” Her eyes flick up to meet Adora’s. There’s a certain vulnerability in them, resignation to whatever’s coming next. “I know you love me, Adora.”

Adora blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah, duh,” scoffs Catra, crossing her arms. “You’re terrible at hiding your feelings.”

Adora’s face scrunches up in an adorably indignant way. “Thanks?”

The expression almost makes Catra chuckle, but this is no laughing matter. Closing her eyes to reset herself, she sighs. “The problem isn’t how much you love me. The problem is how little you respect me.”

“I respect you,” Adora counters immediately.

“No, you don’t,” insists Catra. “You see me as someone to save, someone to take care of. And I appreciate that you care about me, but I need you to understand that I can take care of myself.” Lips puckering, she scowls down at the floor. “I can take care of you, too,” she mutters.

“Hey.” Adora’s hand returns to Catra’s shoulder, and when she looks up Adora is smiling at her reassuringly. “I know you can. You showed me that this morning.” Her lips twitch guiltily. “I should’ve seen it earlier.”

The irony of the situation suddenly dawns on Adora and she laughs nervously, drawing her hand back and shoving both in her pockets. “Uh, this is awkward now.”

“What?”

“I’m… here to rescue you?” she says haltingly. “To free you, I mean. I’m letting you go. If you want me to.”

Catra feels her ears prick up slightly in a combination of pleasure and surprise, which she can only hope Adora will read as solely surprise. Before she has a chance to respond, though, Adora’s barrelling onward. “And look, before you say anything, it’s not because I think you’re weak or helpless. I’m doing this because I love you.”

It’s concern as much as doubt that narrows Catra’s eyes. “Enough to give up everything that makes you happy?”

“You make me happy,” declares Adora.

“No I don’t,” Catra says simply.

That ugly fact sits there, hanging undeniable in the space between them. For a moment they share a resigned, wistful silence. It’s Adora who finally breaks it, her mouth twitching in acknowledgment of this truth.

“But you used to. And knowing you’re safe, that’s worth it. Besides, I owe you this.” A sad smile graces Adora’s lips as she reaches out to cup Catra’s face. Thumb grazing her cheekbone, she says, “I gave up everything to save a bunch of people I didn’t know. You really think I wouldn’t give up everything to save the woman I love?”

This time, Catra can’t stop her ears from fully perking up and swivelling out. ‘Love’ is one thing. ‘The woman I love’ is another entirely. Her lips begin to curl, but she’s determined to salvage some pride so she wrangles them into a smirk. Crossing her arms, she cocks a teasing eyebrow. “Then I’m assuming you have a plan? And a Plan B, C, D, and E?”

That makes Adora grin ear to ear, and Catra’s heart swells at the sight.

“You know me so well.”

***

A few hours later, in the absolute dead of night, Adora commences the fourth and final phase of her plan. Lying on the bed in Catra’s arms, she peeks over her shoulder at her tentative ally in the dim safety light of the cell.

“You ready?” she whispers.

“To break some rules? Duh.” Catra’s lips are pressed close to Adora’s ear, her warm breath brushing the sensitive skin and making it flush painfully hot. “I should be the one asking you, Goody Two Shoes.”

Adora huffs and turns back to face the door, thumb brushing the button on the remote. “I broke lots of rules with you.”

“Yeah, always looking over your shoulder, afraid of getting caught.” Adora feels Catra swallow against her, her grip loosening slightly. “You sure you want to do this?”

Adora understands. Catra’s giving her one final chance to back out. To be a good girl and stay out of trouble, to save her own skin and let Catra suffer alone. Like she always did.

Adora pushes the button.

It takes a few seconds for the guard to enter, stifling a yawn. His eyes flutter blearily as the heavy door swings shut behind him, then narrow when he notices their intimate positioning on the bed. Finally they bulge as he registers the terrified look on Adora’s face, the way Catra’s claws are pressed right to her jugular.

“Hello, sir,” purrs Catra. “How kind of you to join us.” His hand moves to the radio on his hip and she tightens her grip on Adora. “Ah ah ah. Call for backup and your Princess of Power here loses her throat.”

“Force Captain, please stay calm,” he urges her, holding up a placating hand. “No one has to die.”

“And no one will, if you both cooperate,” replies Catra. Tucking her face against Adora’s cheek, she sweetly orders, “Sit up slowly, dear.” Adora obeys with a quiet grumble and Catra rises to her knees behind her, always conscious to keep her claws right in the danger zone.

“Now you,” she addresses the guard, “slide your spear and radio through the bars.” Left little choice, the guard follows orders. Catra nods at the restraints on the wall. “Do me a favor and pass me those manacles, will you?” When he has them in his grip she nods at the floor and directs him, “Through the bars is fine.” She can’t help grinning as he obediently tosses them into the cage. She could get used to this. “Good boy. Now, fetch me the sword. Her Royal Highness says you have it.”

The guard shoots Adora a look she usually only receives from Catra, one that communicates just how much of a dumbass she is. Eyeing Catra warily, he warns her, “Look, there’s guards at two more gates before you reach the exit. You’ll never make it by them, even with a sword. This won’t end well for you.”

Catra laughs. “You’re an idiot. You think I’m letting go of her for even one second? No, I’m taking She-Ra with me. No one will dare stand in my way, as long as I have her.”

“Someone will shoot you. Don’t be foolish.”

“And risk shooting the savior of Etheria? I dunno about that,” Catra muses in that teasing way of hers. Awestruck, Adora turns her head slightly to catch a glimpse of Catra’s bold smirk. It’s amazing how easily Catra rolls with the punches and thinks on her feet, making things up on the spot. She’s so much better at this than Adora. Maybe Shadow Weaver was wrong about good leaders always needing to have such elaborate plans. Maybe they just need good instincts.

Those thoughts are cut short by the sting of Catra’s claws digging into her skin. Wincing into the pain, Adora turns to the guard and rasps, “Please.” His face pales as she feels blood trickling down her neck into the hollow of her throat, seeping into her shirt.

The display of fear on the part of the guard only widens Catra’s grin. As he starts to back towards the door, she chirps, “Remember, you call for help and she bleeds out right here. Trust me, I’ll hear you if you do,” she assures him, flicking one of her ears.

As soon as he disappears, Catra pushes Adora up onto her feet and stands behind her. “You okay?” she whispers, giving her shoulder a little nuzzle. The smell of Adora’s blood is making her heart race, and not in a good way.

“I’m good. You’re doing amazing,” Adora murmurs in assurance. “You’re amazing.”

Blood rushes to Catra’s face and she’s suddenly extremely grateful that she’s behind Adora and out of her view. The guard reenters at that same instant, saving her from having to respond. When he moves to toss the sword through the bars, Catra tells him, “Bring it in yourself, please.” He eyes Adora’s throat warily and obeys, unlocking the gate and stepping inside. “Lock it behind you.”

Following that latest order, he holds out the sword expectantly. Smiling sweetly, Catra asks, “Adora, darling, do you mind? My hands are full.”

Adora growls at her but extends a hand. As soon as the hilt is in her grasp, Catra releases her and she points the sword at the guard’s throat. “Kneel.”

His eyebrows knit in confusion for a mere second before his mouth falls open, eyes bouncing between her and Catra. They narrow into a withering glare as he kneels before Adora. Scowling up at her, he grumbles, “Traitor.”

Before Adora can react, Catra steps up and slaps him across the face. “Did I say you could talk?” Knocking off his helmet, she grabs his hair and cocks a fist.

“Catra, stop!” Adora grabs her arm before she can land another blow. Catra catches her eye and she insists, “No one gets hurt, remember?”

A faint growl rises up in Catra’s throat, but she settles for giving the guard a stern warning. “Don’t talk to her like that ever again.” Adora can’t help snorting at the blatant hypocrisy and Catra shoots her a look over her shoulder before turning back to the guard. “Hands behind your back.”

Catra proceeds to push him down onto his stomach, wedging a knee into his back as she secures his hands. It’s a totally unnecessary power move that makes Adora roll her eyes. “Catra, don’t waste time being an asshole. We have like fifteen minutes until the next radio check in.”

“He was rude to you,” grunts Catra, yanking him back up onto his knees.

“I don’t care,” snaps Adora. “All I care about is getting you out of here safely.”

Catra rolls her eyes in response but chains the guard to the bed frame without further incident. Once he’s secured, Adora crouches down and pulls a wad of cloth from her pocket. Stuffing it in his mouth, she ties a band of fabric around his head to hold it in. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly. The guard glares daggers at her and she cocks her head. “Hey, I could’ve saved a lot of time by knocking you out. Be grateful. At least this won’t leave you with a headache for days.”

Getting to her feet, Adora peeks out the window to make sure no one is patrolling down below or nearby. Satisfied that they have a clear escape route, she turns to Catra. “Ready?” Catra nods, and Adora points the sword to the sky. “For the honor of Grayskull,” she whispers. Once the transformation is finished, she takes out the window bars with a couple of hard swings. “Hurry,” she urges Catra. “Someone might’ve heard that.” 

They are several storeys above the ground, but Adora can absorb the impact in She-Ra form without taking damage. In the time it takes her to sheathe the sword and wrangle She-Ra’s bulky frame out the window, Catra has scaled at least twenty feet down the wall. She jumps off the building and lands gracefully on her feet just as Adora leaps from the ledge. Adora’s landing is much less graceful, and she’s pretty sure she hears Catra snicker at the small shockwave the impact sends through the surrounding area.

Groaning from her prone position on the ground, Adora detransforms. Glowing in the dark really wouldn’t be helpful right now. Gingerly getting to her feet, she directs Catra towards a particular section of the woods. “This way.”

Sprinting for their lives, they quickly clear the castle grounds and leave the treeline in their dust. Well, Adora sprints. Catra jogs, by her standards. It’s a couple minutes before Adora pulls her to a stop and bends over, resting her hands on her knees as she struggles to catch her breath. Catra’s panting a little too, her heart racing in a combination of fear and excitement. It’s been a while since they’ve had such a good adventure. Not since the skiff… 

Squashing that thought before it can spiral and ruin the moment, Catra turns to Adora, who’s now caught her breath enough to straighten up. Their eyes meet and they simultaneously break out into huge grins.

“I think that might be the best escape we’ve ever made,” chuckles Catra. “Gotta hand it to you, Adora, that was a good plan.” She nudges Adora’s side. “You know, for a dumbass.”

“Shut up,” protests Adora, swatting her arm gently through a fit of giggles that prove contagious. Soon they are clinging to each other in an attempt to stay upright, fighting laughter and the fatigue from their mad dash.

As their laughter finally dies down, Adora pushes herself into a standing position, hand braced on Catra’s shoulder. She’s still smiling, but Catra’s expression is uncharacteristically serious. Her eyes bore deep into Adora’s, as though she’s searching for something. “You think they’ll banish you?”

That wipes the smile right off Adora’s face. “I’m banishing myself,” she says, gesturing to her backpack propped against a nearby tree.

Catra glances at the backpack then back at Adora, concern etched on her features. “Where will you go?”

“The Crystal Castle.” She’s about to explain further when Catra’s brow furrows.

“That’s the temple with the creepy time warp shit, right?”

Adora blinks in surprise. “How’d you know that?”

“Sparkles,” Catra mutters with a dismissive little wave.

The mention of Glimmer makes Adora’s face fall again. “Yeah, well. Light Hope, the AI that lives there, she said I should stay with her and train.” Adora shrugs. “I didn’t want to, but at least I have somewhere to go now.”

Eager to break eye contact, Adora walks over and grabs her bag. As she begins rifling through it, she continues, “I don’t have to live in Bright Moon to be She-Ra. I can still protect them and everyone else from the Horde.” When she finds what she’s looking for, her lips pucker a little. Swallowing that expression, she stands and offers Catra her uniform top. “Speaking of which, I think you’ll be needing this.”

Catra warily examines the shirt in Adora’s outstretched hand. Nothing ever comes free. There’s a reason Adora is making a show of this. Catra takes the shirt, but not without throwing Adora heaps of side eye. “Is this the part where you tell me I have a second chance and I should use it for good?”

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do,” says Adora. Her tone and expression lack any guilt or disapproval. If there’s a hint of anything, it’s fondness. Catra’s eyebrows shoot up as she stares at Adora. Wait, this _is_ Adora, right?

“That’s a first,” remarks Catra, but the intended sass doesn’t come through in her tone. She shifts on the spot, eyeing Adora uneasily.

“What can I say?” shrugs Adora. “I’m trying something new.” Forcing a smile, she squeezes Catra’s shoulder. “Good luck, Force Captain. I’m sure you’ll do great, whatever you decide to do.” Though her smile may be spurious, her words are not. Catra is capable of anything.

Mouth hanging open, Catra stares at Adora mutely. Her lips move a little as she tries to formulate an answer, but she doesn’t know what to say. Usually she knows just how to handle Adora, but this isn’t a situation she ever anticipated being in.

When Catra fails to answer, Adora gives her another smile, a sad one this time. Ghosting a thumb over the Force Captain’s cheek, she says, “Take care of yourself, Catra.”

It’s not until Adora shoulders the backpack and turns to leave that Catra remembers how to move. “Adora, wait,” she calls after her, catching her wrist just before she steps out of range.

Adora’s chest flutters with hope as she turns back, hope that’s immediately rewarded when Catra cups her jaw with both hands, staring up at her in wonder. Catra’s eyes fall shut and she gently kisses Adora, letting her fingertips trail down Adora’s neck until her hands are splayed on her collar bones.

Lingering in the kiss for several moments, Catra finally pushes herself back a little to meet Adora’s eyes. “Thank you,” she says. That’s all she really can say, at least until she can wrap her brain around these new developments. But when Adora pulls her in for another kiss, she doesn’t object.

Deepening the kiss, Adora wraps her arms around Catra’s waist, trapping her just for a moment. She never wants to let go. She wishes they could run away together, not apart. More than anything, she wants Catra to come with her. But she knows she can’t ask that of her. Catra has to make that choice on her own.

But maybe… maybe they can have more of these moments. Stolen moments, away from the war and all who would judge them for it. After all the moments they should have had, moments that were stolen from them in their youth, it’s only fair to steal some back. Right now, that’s all Adora can hope for. The alternative is being eternally and desperately alone.

Tipping her forehead against Catra’s, Adora gazes deep into those beautiful mismatched eyes. Holding their owner close, she savors these last moments and all their sensations. The pressure and warmth where their bodies are pressed together, the electric feeling it sends through every inch of her skin. The brush of Catra’s breath tickling her lips. Her own heartbeat thundering in her chest and eardrums.

Adora’s throat begins to ache and she swallows and blinks hard before she can lose her composure again. _Show no weakness_.

“I hope the next time I see you isn’t on the battlefield,” she says. Planting a kiss on Catra’s forehead, she gives her a knowing smirk. “You know where to find me.” She can only hope that’s sufficient motivation to prompt a visit.

Catra stares after Adora as she strolls away, looking back only once. The grin on her face is as much a challenge as her final words. A challenge Catra just might have to take her up on.

Scanning the ground, Catra stoops to pick up her shirt that she dropped in the midst of all that kissing. The Force Captain badge glints in the moonlight, reminding her of all that’s at stake, who she is and where she belongs. Scorpia’s probably worried sick and driving Entrapta up the wall. Her unexplained absence has surely not gone unnoticed by Hordak, either.

Shrugging off and discarding the tunic, Catra pulls her shirt down over her stomach and smoothes out the rumples. This Adora business can wait until she’s finished damage control in the Fright Zone. Her rank is the only thing providing her any sense of safety or control these days, and she’s not about to risk that to make out with a traitor. No. First and foremost, she has a job to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say character development???
> 
> Alternate title for this fic: “Shadow Weaver is the Literal Fucking Worst.” She can even find ways to twist valid parenting strategies into something horrible.
> 
> For the record I’m honestly pretty ambivalent about whether Magicats have human or feline reproductive cycles. I don’t think it’s gross to have the headcanon about heat cycles when the truth is unestablished in canon, but in a universe where they do in fact have human cycles it would be pretty awful if that stereotype existed. (In Full Hearts I established that heat cycles were a thing. Don’t hate on me, bro. *shrug*)
> 
> Thanks to [Doublepasse](https://doublepasse-writes.tumblr.com) for beta reading this chapter for me and giving me some great ideas to shore up the escape plot. If you haven’t read her fic [For My Sake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16728153/chapters/39236862) literally what are you doing with your life?? It’s easily one of the best Catradora fics on the market, a great mix of character development and a neat plot with some amazing twists. Go read it right now, like seriously.


	13. Deception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, who else is stoked for season 3? I'm gonna need an excuse for Catra to wear a leather jacket now...
> 
> This is the comic relief chapter you all deserve, though there is still a lot of plot and emotional stuff going on. First, Adora and Light Hope throw down in a battle for the title of most socially awkward being on Etheria. Then it’s time for more Superpal Trio shenanigans! My favorite thing!
> 
> A couple people have posted some fan art of this fic (!!!) recently and I want to link to them and give the credit they deserve. [spopcrite](https://spopcrite.tumblr.com) did [this doodle](https://spopcrite.tumblr.com/post/186235272277) of chapter 11, and [catra-listens-to-death-core](https://catra-listens-to-death-core.tumblr.com) (a.k.a. [Revelation_Dis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revelation_Dis/pseuds/Revelation_Dis)) made [a comic](https://catra-listens-to-death-core.tumblr.com/post/186434622984) about this chapter (so that one comes with a mild spoiler warning).
> 
> Content warning for absolutely nothing. You are welcome.

Frozen branches creak in the nighttime breeze, casting moving shadows around Adora’s feet as they inch forward. The sight makes a chill creep up her neck and a shudder spread down all her limbs. Her teeth chatter as she peers through the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the Beacon. If only she could see in the dark, like Catra.

She is getting closer, she can feel it. Being She-Ra seems to give her some weird extra senses, an ability to perceive certain things. She can locate Swift Wind now, if she focuses hard enough. First Ones’ ruins aren’t quite the same, but she can swear she feels something…

Continuing to navigate slippery frozen logs and vines that snag at her ankles, Adora finally spies the stone behemoth. She heaves a sigh of relief and stomps through the last of the forest, crossing the clearing. The door set into the forest floor opens as she steps up to it, allowing her access to the entrance hall. Rubbing her arms in an attempt to salvage some heat, she follows the lines of glowing First One’s script down to the large cavern.

At least she can see in here, even if it is just as cold as the outdoors. Scanning the cavern, she calls out into the expanse. “Light Hope?”

The hologram flickers into existence in front of her. “Adora, welcome back,” Light Hope greets her warmly. By AI standards, anyway. “It is good to see you. I was starting to worry you would not return at all.”

“Sorry, it’s been a wacky week and a half,” chuckles Adora, dumping her backpack against the wall. “Gosh, where would I even start?”

“Would you like me to scan your brain again?” asks Light Hope. “That would save you the trouble of relaying the story, and ensure the information is passed on with greater accuracy.”

Adora shudders. “Please don’t.”

“Very well. Do you want to tell me where you have been, or skip straight to training? I am amenable to either.”

“I’ve been in Bright Moon,” offers Adora. “The Horde attacked right after I left here and I got a nasty injury defending the kingdom, was practically on bed rest for a week while I recovered. It’s still not a hundred percent, but I don’t think training will be a problem.”

Light Hope’s animated eyebrows quirk downwards. “Why were you fighting in your human form? Did you lose the sword?”

“No, I was She-Ra when it happened,” says Adora.

“I see,” muses Light Hope. Her thoughtful expression makes Adora’s mouth go dry. “Wounds acquired in She-Ra form typically heal at exponential rates, the only exception being physical wounds that severely harm She-Ra’s vessel - Adora, in this case - on an emotional level. It is one of She-Ra’s few weaknesses.”

Light Hope’s unblinking eyes bore right through Adora, making her gulp and wring her fidgety fingers together. This feels like waiting outside the Black Garnet Chamber, knowing you’re about to get chewed out. Finally Light Hope asks, “Am I correct to assume that you were injured by the one you call ‘Catra’?”

Adora deflates with a sigh. “How did you know?”

“It takes a strong bond to cause such emotional devastation, as I understand. The only other being who could inflict such a wound is your maternal figure, and from what I know she typically does not engage in physical combat.”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about that one anymore,” mutters Adora, eyes downcast. “She’s dead.”

“How fortuitous,” remarks Light Hope. Adora’s eyes flash up in a withering glare and she backtracks, “Forgive me, I had no intention to offend you. I only meant that it is advantageous to have one less person capable of causing you such injuries.”

Dragging a hand down her face, Adora huffs, “I know what you meant, Light Hope.”

Adding insult to injury, Light Hope observes, “It would seem that your attachments are still causing you trouble, as I predicted.”

Glaring once again, Adora groans, “Can we skip the lecture?”

“Adora, I am concerned for you,” insists Light Hope. “I am not giving you this advice to cause you pain, only to protect you and those you love.”

“What do you know about love?” snorts Adora.

“Anecdotally, quite a lot. You are not the first She-Ra to be distracted by her attachments,” Light Hope informs her. “I categorize love as romantic, platonic, or familial. Romantic is the most volatile, but also the most powerful, at least when it comes to clouding one’s judgement. Your relationship with Force Captain Catra is of particular concern to me, because that love refuses to be constrained to one category or another. She, more than anyone else, is bound to be a distraction.”

_“Catra’s not becoming a distraction for you, is she?”_

The blood drains from Adora’s head, her mouth slipping open in despair. Is Catra ever going to stop being her dirty little secret? Her jaw sets as she glowers up at her would-be mentor. It would be nice if tall magical ladies would stop telling her to forget about Catra like they know what’s best for her. She’d love to tell Light Hope to shove it and get the fuck out of her head. Unfortunately, this shamelessly invasive AI is her only ally she is certain of at the moment, and this is the only place she’s sure she’s welcome.

“Being ‘best friends’ since you were toddlers has made your platonic love for her remarkably strong,” continues Light Hope, apparently oblivious to Adora’s distress. “There is a small familial component to it as well, perhaps attributable to your longstanding status as squadmates, or your shared maternal figure. Most troublesome, however, are your romantic feelings for her, particularly given her status as an enemy combatant.”

Wincing at the painful truth, Adora holds up a hand. “Okay, you’re being creepy again. Stop telling me who I’m in love with.”

“Are you unaware of this, Adora?” asks Light Hope, sounding genuinely confused. “I would think it was quite obvious. The warm feelings she has always caused you have increased since puberty, and it seems you were more or less conscious of this. For instance, you would actively think of her when you wanted a pleasant distraction during training, or when you were attempting to relax and reset your mainframe.”

Adora’s forehead crinkles as she attempts to keep up. “You mean trying to sleep?”

“That too. I was referring, however, to resetting it with a rush of pleasant hormones-”

“Light Hope!” Adora’s face and neck burn scarlet, her eyes wide as saucers. “That’s - that’s private!”

“Forgive me,” says Light Hope. “My human protocol has very few specifications about privacy. As you know, I already have access to all your memories prior to your first visit here. But if you prefer, I could refrain from mentioning those incidents in the future.”

“Y-yes, please!” stammers Adora. “No more talk of those incidents, unless you want your Princess of Power to die of embarrassment.”

“Is it possible for humans to die of embarrassment?” Light Hope cocks her head to an unnatural degree that makes Adora cringe. “Please, explain to me how this works. I have no data on such a phenomenon.” Adora groans. This is like talking to Entrapta, only worse. Perhaps mistaking her frustration for even more embarrassment, Light Hope assures her, “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Adora. It is perfectly normal human behavior. All the She-Ras who came before you did the same.”

Adora facepalms. “Oh my gods, I did not need to know that.” She wishes the floor would open up and swallow her whole. “Ugh, you said we weren’t going to talk about this.”

“Very well,” concedes Light Hope. “If you are still unwilling to accept my advice, there is no point to continuing this conversation at this time. Shall we commence training instead?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” sighs Adora.

She draws her sword, but as she starts to raise it Light Hope inquires, “How long do we have before you need to return to Bright Moon?”

“Oh. About that.” Adora scratches her neck as its blush flares back up. “I left Bright Moon. I was hoping I could stay here with you, like you suggested. Spend more time training, maybe spread my time around Etheria a little better. The Horde doesn’t only have its sights on Bright Moon.”

Light Hope’s mouth stretches in an overenthusiastic (and frankly rather creepy) smile. “I would be delighted to have you stay here, Adora,” she says. “Perhaps you are making progress on your emotional attachments after all.”

The truth weighs heavy on Adora’s conscience, but she can’t deal with another lecture right now. For now, Light Hope is pleased with her. With all the disapproval she’s gotten from Shadow Weaver and Queen Angella in the last few months, that’s a rare treat. Who can blame her for wanting it to last?

Adora laughs nervously, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

***

It’s early morning by the time Catra makes it back to the Fright Zone, her heavy limbs and eyelids slowing her progress. She hasn’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours, save for a brief nap yesterday afternoon while Adora was off doing Adora things, and her bed is calling her. First, though, she decides to check in with Entrapta. The mad scientist doesn’t seem to ever sleep, so hopefully she’ll be awake and able to pass on the news of her safe return to Scorpia.

When the door to the lab slides open in front of her, she finds Scorpia already there, pacing around and rambling while Entrapta tinkers with her medic mini bot. “We have to go after her, Entrapta! What if they captured her? She could be hurt!”

Entrapta flips her mask up and smiles at Catra. “I think she’s fine.”

“If they’ve touched a hair on her head I will personally destroy Bright Moon with my bare claws!” rants Scorpia, smacking them together with purpose.

“I’m flattered, really,” interjects Catra, “but there’s no need.”

Scorpia spins Catra’s way and her face lights up at the sight. “Wildcat!” Bolting over, she scoops Catra up and squeezes her in a bone-crushing hug. “You’re safe! Thank Hordak! Thank the gods!” Her beefy biceps bulge even tighter around Catra’s ribs as she nuzzles her cheek against Catra’s hair. “Oh, I’m just so glad this nightmare is over!”

“Scorpia…” Catra attempts to wriggle out of her grip, gasping for air. “Need… to breathe.”

“Oh! Sorry!” Setting her down gently, Scorpia gives Catra a two-foot radius. Better than nothing, at least. “We were so worried! What happened to you?”

Catra scoffs. “More like ‘what didn’t happen to me.’”

“Sounds like someone had an adventure,” remarks Entrapta, abandoning her workbench to join the conversation. Emily follows hot on her heels.

“You could say that,” mutters Catra. Her eyes bulge and muscles tense when Entrapta steps in and throws her arms around her.

Giving her one solid squeeze, Entrapta releases Catra and steps back. She turns to Scorpia with a proud grin. “Like that, Scorpia?”

“Yes, that was excellent!” beams Scorpia. Catra rolls her eyes while they share a high five between pincer and hair.

Entrapta turns back to Catra, all but vibrating with excitement, and they both stare at her expectantly. Even Emily is listening closely, tipping her spherical body and leaning in.

“Well?!?” Entrapta’s shrill voice pierces the silence and Catra’s eardrums, causing her to wince.

“Look, I’m tired,” sighs Catra. “I don’t want to get into it. I just wanted you guys to know I was safe.”

Scorpia nudges her ribs affectionately. “And to see our faces, right?”

“Ugh, whatever,” Catra grumbles, eyes falling as she suddenly feels herself fighting off a blush. What, did she seriously miss these boneheads that much? She only looks up when she feels Scorpia’s meaty claw come to rest on her shoulder.

“Hey, look, you don’t have to go into details,” says Scorpia. “But I really wanna know, was the mission a success?”

“Define success,” deadpans Catra.

“Did you talk to Adora?” Catra shoots her a warning look and Scorpia quickly backtracks, “You know, did you mess with her head?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” Catra grins broadly. “Guess what, guys? I got She-Ra to run away from Bright Moon.”

“You what?” Scorpia starts to step in, arms opening wide. Catra recoils, still recovering from the last bear hug, and Scorpia stops. Grinning sheepishly through her excitement, she settles for patting Catra on the head enthusiastically while bouncing on her toes. “Catra, you beautiful genius! How did you manage that?”

“Princess Glitterbutt got me captured, and Adora was so wracked with guilt she helped me escape.” Catra gives a carefree shrug and airily remarks, “Now I guess she’s on the lam.”

“You don’t know where she went?” asks Entrapta.

“Nah,” Catra lies easily. “I have a few ideas, but she didn’t really want to talk about it. She was so sad about leaving her dumb friends behind.”

“I mean, I can understand that, even if they are dumb,” muses Scorpia. “I know we all just met recently, but I wouldn’t leave either of you behind, either.”

“You may not want to make such promises, Scorpia,” Entrapta warns her flatly. “Adora said no princess would be left behind when we came to rescue Bow and Glimmer, and that promise proved false.” Head bowed, she murmurs, “I guess that was my fault, though. I’m the one who ran back into the purging chamber to save Emily. I just wish they’d cared enough to come back for me.”

The bot raises one of her arms to pat Entrapta’s shoulder, and Entrapta looks up with a sad smile, resting her palm on top of Emily’s… hand? Foot?

Snorting under her breath, Catra remarks, “Yeah, well, Adora doesn’t exactly have the best track record with these things.” She reaches out to card her claws through a lock of purple hair, giving Entrapta a friendly smirk when she looks over. “I wouldn’t take it personally, Trapta. That’s just the way those princesses are.”

Guilt niggles at Catra’s stomach, wiping the smile from her face. Maybe she shouldn’t be saying things like that after what Adora just did for her. At least Adora’s trying to do better. Shouldn’t she, too?

“Have to agree,” Scorpia chimes in. “They never made me feel welcome. If you’re too weird, you’re expendable. That’s how they work.” She rests a pincer on Entrapta’s shoulder, making earnest eye contact. “But you are anything but expendable, you got that?”

Slowly nodding, Entrapta looks up with a proud smile. “You’re right. They thought they didn’t need me, but I proved them wrong.”

“You sure did,” grins Scorpia. “It’s like Catra said, you belong here with us.” Her claws snap out and snag Emily and Catra, yanking them into a group hug around Entrapta. “Misfits unite!”

Groaning at the forced contact, Catra fights off another wave of guilt. She’s the one who convinced Entrapta the princesses didn’t value her and left her for dead. At the time she didn’t know that they thought Entrapta was dead, but still... 

Catra tightens her grip on Entrapta, debating the merits of divulging the truth. Entrapta’s extremely valuable, and Scorpia is fond of her. If Catra’s being perfectly honest, the hyperactive little nerd is growing on her too. Sighing as Scorpia finally releases them, she resolves to figure this out later, once her brain is fully functional again.

Flashing a smirk at her ragtag squad, she remarks, “Well, I can’t say this hasn’t been thrilling, but it’s time for me to hit the sack. Been a long couple days.”

“Okay, Wildcat,” Scorpia replies with a smile so genuine it hurts Catra’s heart a little. “You sleep tight, now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Catra waves her off as she turns away. “Try not to blow up the compound while I’m sleeping, you two.”

Traversing the hallways to her quarters, Catra snorts to herself. At least Wildcat is better than Kitty. She’ll take that.

***

Warmth envelops Catra’s feet, threatening to pull her back under as she slowly comes to. It’s nice. Nothing like an afternoon moonbeam, but still. She yawns, stretching under the covers, and her features scrunch up as her feet encounter something solid but squishy. Her eyes flutter open in search of the obstacle and find Scorpia sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her intently.

“Afternoon, sleepy hea-”

“Ah!” Catra jumps and draws her legs back, crab walking up the bed to get some separation. “Scorpia, what the fuck? Get out of my room!”

“Nope,” Scorpia refuses with a jolly grin. “You owe me details.”

Catra blinks hard. “What?”

“You’ve had some sleep, and now Entrapta’s not around to overhear. So spill,” she demands, reaching out to thump Catra’s feet through the covers. “What did Adora say when you told her?”

“Told her what?” groans Catra.

“That you wanted to kiss her!”

Suddenly Catra is very awake.

“Scorpia!” she hisses. “Shut up!”

The big lug clacks her claws together eagerly, eyes huge and bright. “I’m sorry, I’m just so excited!”

Rolling her eyes, Catra corrects her, “And it’s _used to want_ to kiss her, by the way.”

“Sure, Catra,” drawls Scorpia, and Catra levels a death glare right at her. It has absolutely no effect. “Come on, tell me! Please?”

Catra groans into her palms, seriously reconsidering her choice of allies. Slumping back against one of the iron bedposts, she admits, “Well, she was pretty shocked.” Her eyebrows twitch with a caustic little snort. “Guess I did a good acting job, back in the day.” Lying has never been difficult for her, but Adora is particularly easy to deceive. Always has been.

“Come on,” whines Scorpia. “Give me details.”

“Ugh.” Catra wipes the sleep from her eyes. “Look, I don’t remember what she said, we talked a bunch more before she broke me out and it’s all kind of mixed up right now.”

“Oh.” A grin slowly forms on Scorpia’s face. “Ohhhh. What did you guys talk about?”

“Scorpia, I swear to Hordak-”

“The time she kissed you in the locker room? The traumatic upbringing you shared under Shadow Weaver?”

A bitter laugh bursts past Catra’s lips. “Shared? Please. Adora was _sad_ Shadow Weaver died. Adora was a good little girl who stayed out of trouble, even if that meant letting me get walloped for no good reason. She didn’t share in anything.”

Scorpia’s brow furrows. “Wait, you told her Shadow Weaver’s dead?”

“Oh.” Eyes flitting away, Catra nibbles on her lip. “Yeah. I did.”

“That leaves us open to attacks by sorcerers, doesn’t it?” Scorpia points out, speaking Catra’s thoughts aloud. She’s smarter than Catra gave her credit for.

“I mean, hypothetically,” Catra shrugs, “but I don’t even know if Adora told anyone else, she was so obsessed with getting me out once Sparkles got me locked up.”

Scorpia nods pensively. “We should probably warn Hordak, just to be safe.”

“No!” The panic in Catra’s voice surprises her as much as Scorpia. Maybe it shouldn’t, though, given the wrath she usually faces when she disappoints an authority figure. So far Hordak seems somewhat more reasonable than Shadow Weaver, but she’s seen how angry he can get. It was funny when it was directed at Shadow Weaver, but…

Catra shakes her head resolutely. “No way. We can’t let Hordak learn the truth. If we tell him Adora knows, he finds out I leaked intelligence to the enemy, and then it’s all over for me.”

“Okay, well what about Entrapta?” muses Scorpia. “She keeps saying how magic and technology are kind of the same thing. Maybe she can harness the Black Garnet’s energy again, create some kind of protection spell.”

Catra’s head cocks to the side. “That’s… actually a decent plan.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Scorpia teases, but her smile is earnest. “I’m more than just a pretty face.”

Catra snorts under her breath, tapping a claw against her chin in thought. “Okay. I’ll try to come up with some other way the intelligence got leaked,” she concludes. “He’s bound to ask about the spell eventually. In the meantime, get your girlfriend working on a barrier for the Fright Zone.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” protests Scorpia, cheeks instantly flushing as red as her exoskeleton.

Grinning wickedly, Catra chirps, “Oh, so you can give it, but you can’t take it?”

“That’s it, you’re going down!” Scorpia swipes at air as Catra darts away, ricocheting off the wall to land behind her.

“Too slow!” Catra calls from the doorway. As the door slides open, the grin fades from her lips and she turns back. “Hey, Scorpia?”

Scorpia raises an eyebrow at the sudden change in demeanor, and Catra twitches her mouth gratefully. “Don’t tell her why we need it, okay? She’s bad with secrets.”

Giving Catra a stalwart nod of assurance, Scorpia salutes crisply. “You got it, boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch me shamelessly steal as many Scorptra interactions from season 2 as possible because aw they are honestly adorable and season 2 made me a multishipper. I resent how little time Entrapta spent with them though, so I’m doing my best to make up for that. :)
> 
> EDIT: I probably won't update again before season 3 because a) OITNB, b) pre-season SPOP rewatch, c) I'm working on Joniss for now, and d) I want to wait and see if there's anything in season 3 I want to use for the next chapter/arc. This is sort of a transitional/setup chapter between arcs and it makes sense to write the whole next arc with the same canon content in mind. Thanks for your patience, I will hopefully get chapter 14 up not long after season 3 is dropped. I will still be picking at it in the meantime, I'm sure.


	14. Disgrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I had one more chapter in me before season 3 after all. I figured screw canon lol, and if any of my ideas end up being similar to upcoming content then I look like a genius instead of a copycat.
> 
> That being said, there’s a lot of season 2 stuff woven into this chapter because canon is too good to ignore and not copy/draw from at all. It’s only in bits and pieces, though, because the storyline is very different. There were just certain lines/ideas that worked so well in places, you know?
> 
> One last note, we are now returning to our super fun regular programming. Which means CONTENT WARNING for depictions of violence, emotional and physical child abuse, blood/mild body horror, and vague suicidal ideation. Vacation is over, bitches.

That evening, Catra receives a summons to an audience with Lord Hordak in his throne room. It’s hardly a surprise given the circumstances, and she was going to go check in with him anyway to share what she learned in Bright Moon. Still, though, something about being summoned at an irregular time to meet with her superior in their sanctum makes her skin crawl. Especially when she has something to hide.

Also partly to blame for her feelings of unease are her frosty interactions with Hordak since Shadow Weaver’s execution. The encouraging attitude he showed her previously has been conspicuously missing, replaced by irritability and indifference. Catra can’t help the feeling she’s disappointed him in some way. It’s easily one of the worst feelings in the world.

Finding Hordak’s throne empty when she enters the vast room, she veers into his lab. He spends a lot of time in there tinkering with various projects and experiments that seem to have little, if anything, to do with the war. Spying his imposing frame farther into the lab, Catra gulps and straightens her Force Captain badge. Striding in with as much confidence as she can muster, she asks, “You wanted to see me, Lord Hordak?”

“Yes, Force Captain,” says Hordak, not looking up from the mess of wires on his workbench. “It has come to my attention that you have been absent for much of the last two days, without my knowledge or permission.”

“My apologies, Lord Hordak,” says Catra, bowing her head slightly. As much as she hates apologizing, she’s fully prepared to eat shit to make this whole mess blow over. “I decided to do a quick scouting mission the other night, and I thought I would be back to carry out my duties by morning. If I’d known I was going to be delayed, I would have informed you.”

“Informed me?” Hordak turns her way, his expression hard. “Force Captain, do you think it is acceptable to go over my head and set out on a mission without my approval?”

“Go over your head?” Catra blinks bewilderedly. Granted, she’s only been doing this job for a week and a half, but she thought she had a pretty good grasp on at least some of what it entails. “I mean, sir, part of my job is the approval of missions. I didn’t want to bother you with something that’s my responsibility.”

“Is that so?” Hordak narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Or were you concerned that if you asked permission, I would have said no?”

“Honestly, no. I saw no reason why you would,” says Catra. Considering this a moment, she adds, “Next time I’ll ask if I want to accompany any missions outside of the Fright Zone. I understand why it would cause problems if I’m not here running things.” Hordak gives her a look and she quickly corrects herself. “Helping run things.” Not that Hordak really does much other than play in his lab and occasionally boss people around, but bringing that up would definitely not be in her best interests right now. She would if it was Shadow Weaver, but she hasn’t given up on staying in Hordak’s good graces yet.

Hordak nods, his posture relaxing slightly. “Very well, Force Captain Catra,” he says, returning to his work. “Would you like to inform me where you have been, what you have achieved on this mission of yours?”

Sighing in relief, Catra eagerly responds, “Yes, I would. Very much.” Frowning at Hordak’s continued preoccupation, she eases closer to where he stands, subtly demanding his attention. “I was in Bright Moon. I went to scout out the area personally, and I discovered they have a protection spell around the kingdom that disables Horde technology. I also found that She-Ra was badly injured and, even better, I got her to leave Bright Moon. With this knowledge, we should have a huge advantage in the next battle.”

Hordak hums absently, hardly the reaction Catra was hoping for. “How did you convince She-Ra to leave, Force Captain?”

Ears drooping slightly, Catra averts her eyes. “Unfortunately, I was captured. But I preyed on her attachment to me, convinced her to help me escape. She was afraid of the repercussions, so she left as well.”

“Making the best of a bad situation,” remarks Hordak. “You’ve always been good at that, haven’t you?”

Catra’s ears prick back up as she takes a cautious look at Hordak, her stomach gurgling with unease. His words were proud in theory, but their tone seemed to hold a hint of condescension. She’s particularly sensitive to that tone. No doubt Adora would have taken it as a compliment and moved on, but she is definitely not Adora.

Shifting her weight, Catra lifts her chin and stands tall. “I had to be, sir.”

Finally Hordak looks her in the eye. “How did you manage to get yourself captured?”

“I got too close to the castle. Princess Glimmer found me when I was about to scale the wall.”

“I see,” muses Hordak. “Why were you attempting to infiltrate the castle? You weren’t secretly planning an assassination, were you?” he asks, a slight cheeky tone in his voice.

Catra chuckles. “No, sir. I was there investigating patrol patterns and special armaments. That’s all.”

Hordak’s eyes narrow, but his penetrating gaze doesn’t pierce her false front. Over the years she has been made impenetrable by necessity. She’s had a lot of practice lying to save her skin. Quite literally.

“Is that so?” asks Hordak.

“Yes?” Catra blinks obliviously. “What else would I be doing there?”

Catra’s barely finished her sentence when Scorpia’s voice rings out from above them. “What did Adora say when you told her?”

“Told her what?”

“That you wanted to kiss her!”

A rock drops into Catra’s stomach, a wave of icy dread washing over her. Eyes flicking to Hordak, she finds his red ones burning with a deadly promise. Her hands and knees begin to tremble, and it’s suddenly taking all her effort to stay on her feet.

Hordak’s little spy swoops down, flying in taunting circles above Catra’s head as he continues replaying her voice. “Adora was _sad_ Shadow Weaver died… I leaked intelligence to the enemy… we can’t let Hordak learn the truth.”

_Oh, gods._

Catra instinctively backs away, putting space between her and Hordak, trying desperately to keep her teeth from chattering. The demonic robot baby lands on Hordak’s arm, smirking at Catra and laughing at her expense.

“You lie to me,” growls Hordak, stepping forward.

“Wait!” protests Catra. As she racks her brain for some excuse, some way out of this, Hordak unexpectedly stops next to a couple of levers sticking out of the floor. She blinks in confusion as he pushes one away from him, turning on some pale purple lights above them. Catra squints up at the lights and the strange glow they cast around her, but has no time to wonder at the unconventional illumination before Hordak starts his lecture in earnest.

“I tried to mentor you, I put my trust in you, and this is how you repay me?” he berates her, approaching slowly. “By consorting with the enemy, being irresponsible and selfish?”

“Lord Hordak, you don’t understand!” Catra interjects desperately as he begins to close in on her. “I was there to sabotage She-Ra, not to consort with Adora. I told her I used to have feelings for her so she would have trouble fighting me in the future.” Suddenly short of breath, Catra breaks into a coughing fit. Fighting through it, she pushes out, “Ask Scorpia, she’ll tell you! She knows all about it.”

“Why didn’t I know all about it, Force Captain?” snaps Hordak. “If you had nothing to hide, you would have been forthright about your plans. Why should I trust anything you say?”

The wheezing only getting worse, Catra falls to her knees, squinting up at Hordak through watering eyes. “I… I can’t-”

“Ah, yes. You see, Etheria’s atmosphere has proved to be a complicating variable in my experiments. I just removed that variable.” Crouching in front of Catra, Hordak leers at her, taking obvious pleasure in her continued struggle. “Tell me, Force Captain, how is your breathing?”

Catra can feel her consciousness beginning to slip away, her head bowing with fatigue and dejection. Is it always going to be like this? Wherever she goes, will someone always be waiting to choke her into submission? To suck the air from her lungs, the hope from her heart?

Standing with a scoff, Hordak mutters, “Pathetic. Just like everything else on this backwards planet.” He walks away, pulling the lever back to its original position on the way by.

The glow dissipates and suddenly Catra can breathe again. She tips forward with a gasp, resting on her hands and knees as she heaves in precious oxygen. She glances up long enough to see Hordak recording observations on the horrible experiment before her vision clouds over, her head bowing under the weight of her failure. Tears roll down her cheeks, dripping onto the floor.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers hoarsely.

Hordak’s fist slams down on the workbench and Catra jumps. “Sorry isn’t good enough!” he booms.

A cold, dizzying rush sweeps through Catra’s head, leaving it feeling fuzzy and heavy. It drops again as she squeezes her eyes shut with a shudder.

_“I’m sorry,” whimpered Catra, cowering in the corner of her cell. Trembling at the encroaching shadows, she shielded her head with her arms. “Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”_

_“Sorry isn’t good enough.” A cold, bony hand gripped her wrist, wrenching one of her arms away. The stranglehold on her small, fragile wrist made her gasp, face contorting in pain. “Actions have consequences, Catra.”_

_Panting hard and willing her eyes to stay dry, Catra protested, “But-”_

_“Silence!” snapped Shadow Weaver. “What would it teach you if any wrongdoings were erased by empty apologies? The world doesn’t work that way, Catra. You’re not getting out of this with some magic word.”_

The clanking and hydraulic sounds of Hordak approaching pull Catra out of the terrifying memory into the much more terrifying present. “You went to fulfill some personal agenda, got yourself captured and leaked dangerous intelligence to the enemy. Worst of all, I gave you the chance to come clean, and you lied.” Hordak crouches in front of Catra again, taking her chin in a literal iron grip. “You think sorry will fix all that?”

Snuffling back the mucus dribbling from her nose, Catra gives her head a hard shake and swallows, wiping her face of emotion. “No, sir.”

Hordak huffs, dropping his hand. “Shadow Weaver was right, I made a mistake with you. You truly are nothing but a disappointment. You’re a disgrace to the Horde.”

A sob bursts from Catra’s throat before she can stop it. Quickly she slaps a hand over her mouth and feigns another round of coughing in an attempt to cover it up.

Hordak doesn’t react to that indiscretion, just narrows his eyes as he continues, “I hoped you’d be an improvement, but you’re just like her, driven by foolish emotions and attachments. I knew the minute I saw your marks on her, and all you’ve done since is prove me right. You’re incapable of discipline. You’re nothing but an animal who can’t control her basest impulses.” 

Anger shoots through Catra’s every nerve, making her muscles stiffen and fur stand on end. Her eyes narrow and spark as she juts her chin out defiantly. “I’m not-”

The back of Hordak’s hand suddenly collides with Catra’s face and an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp fills the air. Immediately she clutches the right side of her face while her left eye widens in shock, trying to focus on her assailant through suddenly blurry vision.

For the record, metal hurts a hell of a lot more than bony flesh. 

“Don’t you dare contradict me!” bellows Hordak, annunciating every word. Catra can’t help wincing, both at the terrifying aggression and the extreme volume of his voice. It makes her ears ring even worse than they already were.

As Hordak stands to tower over her once again, Catra gingerly touches her cheekbone, squinting up at him. She can already feel her right eye swelling shut, the welt rising on her cheekbone. Pulling her hand back, she finds blood staining her fingertips.

“I will give you one more chance to prove your loyalty,” concludes Hordak, calling Catra’s gaze back up in surprise. “One more chance to prove your worth to me, to the Horde.”

Hope blooms in Catra’s chest, allowing her a sigh of relief despite the blood she can feel slowly oozing down her cheek. She can still make this right. That’s more than she dared to wish for. “Thank you, sir. I won’t disappoint you again, I promise.”

“I should hope not,” says Hordak coldly. Pausing for effect, he declares, “You will find She-Ra, and you will kill her.”

“What?” Catra scrambles to her feet, almost tipping over as the world shifts beneath her. “But, sir, I have no idea where she went.”

It surprises her how easily the lie rolls off her tongue. Apparently her instinct to protect Adora trumps her instinct to survive. How convenient.

“Trying to track her down would be a waste of resources,” continues Catra, eyes squinting as she struggles to concentrate through the fog and splitting pain in her skull. “I guess I could attack one of the kingdoms who have joined the alliance. She’d come, but so would all the other princesses.” Catra shakes her head and immediately regrets it, wincing into a wave of dizziness. “No,” she mutters. “We’d lose even more if we did it that way.”

“ _We_ are not going to do anything,” hisses Hordak. “This is your mission, Cadet. Yours alone.”

Catra’s heart drops into her stomach.

“Cadet?” she repeats, her voice weak and wobbly.

“You have made yourself expendable. Clearly I won’t be able to trust you for as long as She-Ra lives,” says Hordak, stripping the badge from Catra’s shirt as she watches in dismay. “Bring me the sword, and her head. Only then will I even consider reinstating you.”

“But-”

“Do you understand?” Hordak’s hand snaps to his opposite shoulder, threatening to repeat the devastating blow. Catra shrinks back as he growls, “Or do I need to make myself understood?”

Catra bows her head, ears drooping. “No, Lord Hordak. I understand.”

“Good. You are dismissed.”

***

It’s a good half hour before Catra is all cried out, slumped against the railing of a high terrace overlooking the Fright Zone. Usually she would perch on it, but her balance is still a little off and she doesn’t want to risk a fall. The brief period of oxygen deprivation seems to have taken a lot out of her, or maybe it was the blow to the head. She can’t tell. All she knows is how utterly fucked she is.

If Catra doesn’t accept Hordak’s mission and prove her loyalty, she’ll go back to being the scum of the earth in the Horde. Worse, actually. The soldiers she lorded power over certainly won’t treat her kindly, Lonnie in particular. But if she does… 

Considering the impossible choice makes her head pound. Lose everything, or kill Adora. Sacrifice any chance she has at redemption, or lose everything. Because Adora is everything. She’s always been everything to Catra, even in the midst of all the hatred and betrayal. Catra doesn’t know if she can live in a world without her. And even if she can, she knows she doesn’t want to.

Catra leans harder against the rickety metal railing, testing its integrity. Maybe she should climb up after all. Perching atop it is a freeing feeling like no other, and if she did fall it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Hell, it would be a relief.

The whole terrace suddenly bucks, tossing Catra several inches in the air with a shout of surprise. Regaining her balance, she looks over and finds Scorpia standing not ten feet to her right. She groans and Scorpia replies with a sheepish chuckle and wave.

“How’d _you_ find me?” mutters Catra, turning her face away to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Not that it’ll do much good. Her eyes are surely red and puffy, the fine fuzz on her cheeks matted down with dried tears. But she can’t help it, it’s a reflex.

“You always come out here when you’re upset. Also I looked everywhere else,” says Scorpia, chipper as ever as she approaches. Her smile drops in an instant as she spots what must be a massive bruise on Catra’s face. “Whoa.” She reaches out to turn Catra’s chin and inspect the damage, but when Catra recoils she yields, resting her pincer on the railing instead. Already pale cheeks losing their color, she stares in abject horror. “Catra, what happened?”

“The little demon baby overheard our conversation in my room. Hordak knows I lied to him. He knows I went to see Adora, he knows I told her about Shadow Weaver.” Catra gulps, fighting off the painful tightness in her throat. “He took my badge.”

“Looks like that’s not all he did,” Scorpia observes, tilting her head to better examine the wound.

“I’ve had worse,” shrugs Catra. “The demotion’s all I’m worried about.” Vaguely gesturing at her face, she mutters, “This, this will heal.”

“Still, he had no right to treat you that way,” declares Scorpia.

Catra’s eyes bulge. “Scorpia, shut up,” she hisses. “What if he hears you?”

“Let him,” she says flatly, folding her bulky arms. “It’s the truth.”

“No, it’s not. He’s my lord and I lied to him, disappointed him. He had every right.” Catra stares out over the Fright Zone, eyes distant and forlorn. “Like it or not, I deserved this.”

“Catra… no.” A large pincer gently comes to rest on her back. “Look, I dunno what Shadow Weaver did to you, and I’m not gonna ask, but don’t ever tell yourself you deserved to get hit,” Scorpia tells her earnestly.

“Actions have consequences,” Catra says numbly.

“Sure, but those don’t have to be the consequences.”

Turning on Scorpia, Catra hisses loudly. “You know what? Not everybody gets to grow up a princess. You don’t know anything about it, so just shut the fuck up.”

For a second, Catra sees a flicker of something in Scorpia’s expression. Her eyes narrow and she opens her mouth as though to protest, but stops before any words come out. She tips her head, gazing at Catra with a softness she doesn’t deserve.

“Has it always been like this for you?” asks Scorpia. Catra’s eyes flit away, jaw twitching, and that’s all the answer she needs. “I’m sorry, Catra.”

Catra swallows. She can’t handle this, any of this. Desperate for a change of subject, she blurts, “I have to kill Adora.”

Scorpia’s mouth falls open. “What?”

“That’s the only way he’ll reinstate me,” says Catra. “That’s the only way I’ll ever be safe.”

“Safe?” Scorpia reaches out, lightly tracing the bruise on Catra’s skin. Catra winces but doesn’t pull away this time. “Doesn’t look like being second-in-command did you much good,” remarks Scorpia. Catra’s eyes narrow and Scorpia smiles sadly. “I’ve been a Force Captain for a while. I could’ve told you power puts you right in his crosshairs. You saw how he treated Shadow Weaver. Why did you think it would be any different for you?”

Squirming awkwardly, Catra admits, “He had to fight for his power too. I thought he understood me.”

Scorpia stares at her mutely for a moment before spelling out, “Catra, Lord Hordak is from the noble class of his home planet. That’s literally what Lord means.”

Catra squints dubiously. “How do you know?”

“I’m a princess, I know royal and noble titles,” Scorpia reminds her with just a hint of sass. Nudging Catra’s side, she adds, “Besides, it was covered in Force Captain Orientation.”

“Of fucking course.” Catra groans, burying her face in her hands. “I should’ve known he was lying to me, manipulating me just like Shadow Weaver. I don’t know why I even bothered hoping…” Swallowing hard, Catra glowers out over the compound. “She said he was just using me, and she was right. Everyone wants to use me. All I’ll ever be is some stupid fucking pawn. Expendable. Useless.”

“Hey, that’s not true,” says Scorpia, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“Yes it is,” insists Catra. “It’ll always be this way. It doesn’t matter how hard I work or what I do for the Horde. There’ll always be someone waiting for me to fuck up, waiting to…”

Scorpia snorts humorlessly as Catra trails off. “Yeah, I mean unless you wanna take down Hordak, or leave.” When Catra’s eyes snap up to hers, she raises both claws. “Hey, I didn’t mean that seriously.”

“Leave?” Catra’s temple throbs and she digs her fingers into it, sucking air through her teeth as she winces painfully.

Scorpia’s eyes flit about. “Listen, you need to lie down,” she says. “How about we go inside?”

Catra really doesn’t want to face everything that waits for her inside, but her bed does sound wonderful right about now. Besides, she can’t hide out here forever. “Ugh, fine,” she agrees, reluctantly pulling away from the railing. Almost immediately she stumbles forward, literally falling into Scorpia’s arms.

“Whoa, hey. You okay?” Scorpia steadies Catra, watching with concern as she rights herself.

“I’m fine,” huffs Catra, brushing away Scorpia’s claws with a mortified blush. “I’m just a bit diz-” Catra’s words are cut off by her stomach bucking violently. She turns to the railing just in time to send her vomit spewing off the side of the building. More rounds of heaving follow, and by the time her stomach is empty she’s a clammy, shaking mess. Her already raw throat burns like a mother fucker and her heartbeat is hammering in her skull. Groaning into the pain, she only now notices Scorpia’s claws holding her hair back.

Gripping Catra’s shoulders, Scorpia gently pries her from the railing. “Okay, Wildcat, let’s get you to bed.”

“Hey, no, stop it!” Catra protests as Scorpia effortlessly scoops her up. “Put me down!”

“Sorry, but this is for your own good,” insists Scorpia, cradling her close. “You’re in no shape to walk.”

Tears of frustration well in Catra’s eyes, but she’s too tired to continue struggling. Even the thought of walking is daunting right now, as much as she hates to admit it. Groaning again, she turns her face into Scorpia’s chest. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “If it’ll get you to shut up.”

Catra can feel eyes on them as Scorpia carries her through the halls of the Fright Zone. She must look absolutely pathetic, limp and bloody in Scorpia’s arms, but she’s too exhausted to care about the gawking passersby. She’s already lost everything. Adora. Her power. Her pride. She’s already in disgrace, already stripped of her rank. Who even gives a shit who sees her like this?

Depositing Catra on her bed, Scorpia leaves to fetch some supplies with a promise to be right back. Funny enough, Catra believes her. In the meantime, the lights in her room are driving her insane. She doesn’t remember them being so loud and bright. She considers getting up to turn them off and end her torment, but even the thought of doing so makes her dizzy. One hand over her eyes and the other clutching her gut, she resolves to tough it out until Scorpia’s return. At least she has a room to herself and doesn’t have to worry about noisy cadets coming in and making the headache worse.

Oh, yeah. She’s about to lose this room too. Force Captain barracks and all.

Scorpia returns shortly with a tall glass of water, a bag of ice, and a bucket. Catra attempts a grateful smile and groans, “Can you turn off the lights?”

“Oh, of course!” chirps Scorpia. “Silly me.”

When they flick off, Catra sighs in relief. There’s still the safety lighting and constant machine hum to contend with, but it is an improvement. Scorpia kneels to her left and presents her with the water, which she obediently gargles and spits into the bucket. She declines to swallow any, however, for fear that it too will end up in the bucket. The ice pack is actually the biggest relief. As she presses it to her swelling cheekbone and eye socket a deep groan leaves her body and she thanks the gods for Scorpia.

“Better?” Catra can just hear the cheeky smile on Scorpia’s face. She has little energy to waste on sass so she merely grunts noncommittally. A claw on her arm makes her good eye open and peer at her self-appointed nurse. “Do you want actual painkillers?” suggests Scorpia. “If I go to the infirmary, tell them what happened-”

“No fucking way,” grumbles Catra. That’s one last vestige of pride she’s not willing to give up. The infirmary is for weaklings, and she’d literally rather die than let the news of what Hordak did to her get around.

“Okay,” Scorpia concedes haltingly. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive.” Noting the way Scorpia’s brow creases and eyes fall, Catra tacks on, “Thanks, though.”

With her various aches mostly soothed, she releases a lengthy sigh and closes her eye, attempting to relax. Despite the lackadaisical facade she propped up for several years, she’s actually not much better at it than Adora. They made quite the pair. The thought makes her smile, until she remembers her latest orders.

Catra’s good eye pops open. “I can’t kill… I can’t kill Adora. How…” Focusing on her friend, she swallows hard. “Scorpia, what am I supposed to do?”

Smiling softly, Scorpia reaches out to caress her cheek. The hard chitin of her pincer feels weird against Catra’s face, a stark contrast to Adora’s warm palms, but somehow it’s comforting anyway. “Sleep, Catra. We’ll figure this out later.”

A slight tremble moves down Catra’s every limb. She hasn’t felt so vulnerable in ages. Hell, she’s not sure she could even defend herself if fucking Kyle decided to attack her right now. Before she realizes what she’s doing, she’s reached up and grabbed Scorpia’s pincer. Squeezing it firmly, she whispers, “Don’t go.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” murmurs Scorpia. Catra loosens her grip and Scorpia rewards her by gently stroking her hair, lulling her into sleep.

For once Catra lacks the energy to protest, or to tell herself she hates the affection. Head turning slightly into Scorpia’s touch, her eye slips shut with an exhausted, resigned sigh. Things won’t be better in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. I'll see you on the other side of season 3! :D


	15. Strength and Endurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, season 3. Wow, huh?
> 
> Sorry for the delay in updating, I Just Have a Lot of Feelings about season 3 and I've been making gifsets and writing copious amounts of meta to cope.
> 
> I would like to preface this chapter by saying that I love Scorptra as a ship and enjoyed Entrapdak way more than I expected this season, but it makes more sense to stay the course with what I’ve been building in this fic (i.e. more Superpal Trio than in canon because it’s seriously lacking and also Scorptrapta because they’re chaotic and adorable). So I’ve adapted some concepts and dialogue from season 3 to match the established vibe, because they were too good not to use.
> 
> This chapter might seem a little like filler on first read because there’s not a lot of action, but it's full of characterization and character/relationship development, and thematically it’s a treasure trove. Basically what I’m saying is, sorry if it’s boring, but take your time with it and you’ll come to understand Catra a lot better.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for emotional and physical child abuse and suicidal ideation.

A ringing sound dominates Catra’s senses as she slips back into consciousness with a groggy groan. Her head throbs and gut churns. When it lurches suddenly, she has just enough sense to yank her body to the edge of the bed and vomit into the bucket on the floor.

Grimacing at the taste of bile, Catra grabs the glass of water by the bucket and rinses her mouth. Her dry lips and tongue persuade her to drink a little as well, despite her fear of it coming right back up. With those immediate needs satisfied, Catra finally notices the buzzing sound that’s only exacerbating the ringing in her ears. That’s when she registers that the lights are on again. _Ugh, seriously, Scorpia? You had one job._

A cold rush suddenly washes over Catra, her ears perking up and fur standing on end. Whether by shadow spies or real eyes, Catra knows the feeling of being watched. She whips around with a growl, claws bared, and a pair of pink eyes right in her face makes her jump back with a startled shriek.

“Hi, Catra!” Entrapta shouts with an enthusiastic wave.

Catra winces, slapping her hands over her ears. “Damn it, Entrapta!”

“Oh, sorry,” says Entrapta, cringing apologetically. “Scorpia said you had a headache. I’m just happy you’re awake.”

Groaning into her palms, Catra grumbles, “That makes one of us.”

“Still not feeling well?” Entrapta’s weight leaves the bed and a clattering noise makes Catra peek between her fingers. Entrapta turns back to her with a long tray dotted with an array of tiny bowls. “I made you soup!” she announces, plopping the tray down on Catra’s lap. “Soup always makes me feel better!”

Wincing again, Catra grabs her throbbing head. “Entrapta,” she groans in exasperation. The princess’s voice is grating even on a good day, let alone with a pounding headache.

“Sorry, sorry.” Entrapta makes a zipping motion across her lips. They fall slightly as she zeroes in on the bruise on Catra’s face. Not keen on discussing that, Catra turns her attention to the bowls and gives one a sniff, frowning at the lack of aroma. Deciding to trust her friend’s judgement, she takes a tentative sip.

It was a bad decision. The moment the concoction hits her tongue she chokes and spits it back into the cup. That’s why she couldn’t smell anything. It tastes the way the air smells. Making a face, she snarks, “What is this, engine oil?”

Entrapta’s face falls. “I… no?”

 _“Making friends as always, I see.”_ The invasive words echo in Catra’s head and she cringes. It’s the voice itself as much as the words that makes her blood run cold. Gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to block it out. But Shadow Weaver won’t grant her peace, not even in death. _“You don’t even try to get along with others.”_ Catra can see those white eyes glowing plain as day in the dark of her mind.

Forcing her eyes open, Catra meets Entrapta’s with a sheepish quirk of her lips. “It’s just… different from what I’m used to,” she backpedals gently. “Thanks, though.” Catra takes another swig of water, swishing it in her mouth a little to wash away the taste. Eager to change the subject, she inquires, “Scorpia sent you?”

“Yes,” Entrapta stage whispers. “I didn’t want to leave my lab, but she really wanted someone here when you woke up to make sure you were okay. So I brought some of my work with me!” Entrapta’s hair picks up a small black box from the mattress in explanation.

“Good plan,” says Catra. “She’s working?”

“Yeah. I think she slept on your floor last night, but she had boxing this morning with some of the junior cadets,” Entrapta replies absentmindedly.

Squirming at that loaded information, Catra nods at the box Entrapta is now fiddling with. “Whatcha working on?”

“My latest project, the mobile audio interference module,” Entrapta says to the box.

Catra blinks. “The what, now?”

“Scorpia told me what happened with Hordak,” Entrapta says plainly. “What he did to you, how he found out you were lying to him.” She gestures at the box. “This will disrupt his spy’s recording capabilities. It will allow us to speak freely, keep that from happening again.”

Catra’s eyes widen. “Maybe you shouldn’t say that out loud until it’s done.”

“It’s already working, I tested it on my recorder,” Entrapta assures her with a wink. “I’m just making a few small tweaks.”

Relief washes over Catra, followed by awe and gratitude. That was… thoughtful. Really thoughtful. “That was a great idea, Entrapta.”

“What can I say? I love solving problems!” When Catra cringes again at the excessive volume, Entrapta grimaces sheepishly. “Sorry. Maybe now that you’re awake I should leave you alone? Or would you rather I stay here?”

The suggestion leaves Catra surprisingly ambivalent. She's not in the mood to deal with people, especially someone chatty like Entrapta, but she’s not sure she wants to be alone with her thoughts either. She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. If you have more work back at your lab I’m fine on my own.”

Already collecting her tools, Entrapta says, “Well, if you’re sure…”

Genuine affection curls Catra’s lips. “Go on, Trapta, it’s fine,” she replies. “You’re a busy lady.” Another thought strikes her and she adds, “Hey, can you turn the lights back off? And get me a bag of ice from the mess hall?”

“I most certainly can!” agrees Entrapta, hair swatting the light switch. “Be back in a jiffy!” Her hair snaps her up into the vent, and then she’s gone.

Lying in wait, Catra wonders how much longer she has before Hordak has her kicked out of this room. She’s surprised it hasn’t happened already.

The answer, it turns out, is about an hour. When the soldiers come to escort her out, she numbly gathers her few possessions without protest. At the door she looks back with a resigned sigh, pondering what was and what could have been. Those dreams turn to dust before her eyes when the door closes in her face. The decisive thunk echoes in her soul and aching chest, and she turns away.

Returning to her bunk in the cadet barracks, Catra takes the bottom bed without hesitation, dropping her things beside it and flopping down to recoup some energy. She’s technically supposed to return to her own bed, but this was her bed for all intents and purposes. Maybe a few days ago she would have climbed up to the top bunk, avoided this one like the plague, but with the recent positive turn between her and Adora, she finds she doesn’t mind. Her eyes flick to the scratched drawing before falling shut with a tired sigh.

Hours pass and no one disturbs her. In the old days she would have answered to Shadow Weaver for skipping training, but right now there’s no second-in-command to enforce anything. Catra’s old teachers and the other cadets probably don’t even know she’s back, none of them come looking for her either. So she lies there numbly, letting reality sink in.

She’s lost everything. Adora. Shadow Weaver. Hordak’s favor. Her power, her only means of gaining respect and protecting herself. And now she’s right back here, where she was at her weakest. Only it’s worse now because she’s in disgrace, crawling back into the barracks with her tail between her legs. Humiliated. A failure. A joke. She can already imagine the jeers and taunts she’ll get from the other cadets, all the ways they’ll reassert their dominance. How they’ll surround her and take turns showing her who’s boss. And who’s not.

Tears sting Catra’s eyes. Nothing ever changes, does it? It’s doesn’t matter what she does, she doesn’t get to win. Try as she might to break free of her humble beginnings, the world will be waiting for her to fail so they can grind her into dust, remind her how worthless she is with their words and their blows. The only thing that’s changed is Adora isn’t around to protect her anymore. As much as Catra takes pride in protecting herself, having a respected and physically imposing ally made that task much easier.

With that, Catra’s thoughts turn to Scorpia. At least she still has some allies. Annoying as they can be, she’ll admit they can be helpful at times. Entrapta said upon her return with the ice bag that Scorpia had said Catra could rest in her room if she got kicked out of hers. The anxiety of what could happen if she doesn’t accept that offer finally gives Catra the strength to move.

Back in the Force Captain barracks, Catra curls up in the dark. She feels no happier, but she does feel safer. Now she can just stew in misery, instead of misery and dread.

She’s not sure how much time passes, if she sleeps or not, but eventually Scorpia shows up. “Hey, Wildcat,” she greets her with a smile. “How’re you feeling?” She’s bearing a cup of dark liquid and a small package of what looks to be some kind of… wafer? Catra can’t remember the word, though she remembers seeing something similar at Princess Prom.

“Been better,” Catra grumbles, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest.

“You eaten anything?”

Catra waves away her concern, and the implied offer. Even if she wasn’t still nauseated from the blow to the head, emotional distress always saps her hunger, makes eating a chore. “S’okay,” she mutters. “I’ve gone days without food before, I can handle it.”

“That’s a weird thing to brag about,” Scorpia remarks, concern narrowing her eyes. “Besides, were you injured at the time? It’s diff-”

Scorpia cuts herself off when Catra dryly raises an eyebrow. Catra watches her face as the new information works its way through her brain, manifesting as confusion, then horror, and finally pain. A deep kind of pain that makes her shoulders hunch and eyes darken with anguish.

“Oh,” she says.

“Yeah,” Catra replies indifferently, resting her chin atop her knees.

Forcing a smile, Scorpia steps forward and extends the sustenance in her grip. “Well look, I brought you some crackers and juice. Easy on the stomach, high on carbs. Your body needs the energy.” When Catra’s nose twitches unenthusiastically, Scorpia insists, “You gotta take better care of yourself, Catra.”

Eyes falling to the blanket, Catra huffs, “Why bother?”

“Hey!” snaps Scorpia. “What kind of attitude is that?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Catra grinds out through gritted teeth, jaw hard as stone. “Nothing matters anymore. I had a chance to make something of myself, and Hordak took it away all because of one stupid mistake.”

A loud metallic clatter makes them both jump and turn to where Entrapta is popping out of the vent, the cover now lying discarded on the floor.

Landing before them, Entrapta remarks, “Actually, Catra, I can see why Hordak would be uncomfortable with a second-in-command who lies to him. You can’t blame it all on him.”

“Entrapta?” Scorpia calls gently, raising a pointed eyebrow.

Entrapta’s eyes jump from Catra to Scorpia and go wide. “Oh, sorry. Am I doing that thing again?” she asks, glancing back and forth between them.

Catra barely contains a growl. “Why are _you_ spying on us, now?”

“I’m not!” chirps Entrapta, much to the chagrin of Catra’s tender ears. “The vents are faster and Scorpia forgot this in the lab.” Tossing the sound blocker box (or whatever it was called) onto the bed, Entrapta waves farewell. “Anyway, I need to get back to work. Bye, guys!” Her hair shoots out and launches her back into the vent before either of them can respond.

Eyeing Catra apologetically, Scorpia lays the food on the table and joins her on the bed. She picks up the box and fumbles trying to press the power button. After several failed attempts, Catra silently reaches in and does it for her. Scorpia forces a grateful smile and sighs. “She’s right. It’s not Hordak’s fault, it’s mine,” she says quietly. Her eyes shine with guilt. “I’m the one who asked you about Adora, he wouldn’t have heard if it wasn’t for me.”

Jaw twitching, Catra draws her knees back into her chest. The thought has crossed her mind already. And while Scorpia is a convenient target for her anger, directing any her way would bury Catra in guilt. She knows that. Besides, she doesn’t want anyone to see her getting emotional right now, especially Scorpia. Not after yesterday’s flagrant display of weakness.

“Yeah, well,” Catra grumbles to the blanket. “Probably would’ve found out eventually, anyway. If he’s anything like Shadow Weaver.” Snorting inwardly, she remarks, “I don’t know why I thought I could get away with lying. It hardly ever worked when I was a kid. Sometimes she thought I was lying even when I wasn’t.”

“Shadow Weaver was magical. Hordak uses tech.” Scorpia lifts the box gleefully. “And now we’ve got a defense against that.”

“Yeah. Great,” mutters Catra.

“If it’s not enough protection, you know… we don’t have to stay here,” Scorpia broaches cautiously. “We can leave, go somewhere else.”

Catra’s eyes narrow inquisitively. “I thought you said you didn’t mean that seriously.”

Scorpia shifts, eyes flitting away. “Yeah, I didn’t really, at the time. Was just kinda running my mouth. But the more I think about it…”

“What?” Catra demands when Scorpia trails off. “Seriously, why would we leave? Give me one good reason.”

A look of vague amusement crosses Scorpia’s face as she tips her head. “Uh, because you hate it here?”

“I don’t…”

Catra can’t finish that sentence. She frowns, brow creasing as she absorbs this uncomfortable truth.

“Hear me out, okay?” says Scorpia, ducking her head into Catra’s eyeline. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve never cared much about conquering Etheria. All I ever wanted was a place I felt I belonged. The Horde treated me better than the princesses. But if it’s really no better, what’s the point?”

Crossing her arms, Catra scoffs hard. “You got somewhere better to be?”

“Yeah. Away from here.” Nodding at Catra’s bruised eye, Scorpia says, “I don’t want to work for someone who would do that to you. Do you?”

Catra shrugs. “Used to it.”

“Will you stop?” snaps Scorpia. The gravity in her tone makes Catra’s head snap up, eyes wide. “Look, Catra, that’s not how things are supposed to be. Shadow Weaver was a shitty guardian, okay? Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean you should accept it.”

“I can handle it,” Catra reiterates crossly. Eyes flicking away, she remarks, “Besides, I find it’s better to keep my expectations low.”

Scorpia scoffs. “Well, maybe that’s your problem.” After a moment of silence, she reminisces, “You know, I wasn’t expecting anything when we captured Entrapta. The three of us together was total chaos, and it was stressful at first. But, you know, I started liking it.” A soft smile turns her lips as she meets Catra’s eyes. “That belonging I was talking about, that feeling of home, I’ve found that with you and Entrapta. So why would we stay here, where leaders don’t care about us and we get hit for making mistakes? We could go somewhere else, all three of us.” Blushing slightly, she concludes, “We could, you know, be happy.”

Happiness. What a foreign concept that is. It’s not like Catra has never felt happiness, fleeting as it was, but she’s never bothered to factor it into her plans. It was irrelevant. All that mattered was protecting herself and Adora and proving her worth to Shadow Weaver, to Hordak, to Adora. But of course a princess cares about that shit. Scorpia had the opportunity to care. Catra laughs bitterly.

“I’ll never be happy if I run away in disgrace like some coward. I need to show Hordak he was wrong about me.” Clenching her fists, Catra growls, “I will not be the weakling they all think I am.”

“Hey, there’s nothing weak about standing up for yourself,” counters Scorpia. “Leaving the only home you’ve ever known to make a new life for yourself is maybe the strongest thing you could do. And you don’t even have to do it alone, Entrapta and I will be there too.”

Grateful for the opportunity to change subjects, Catra scoffs, “How do you even plan on convincing Entrapta? She loves it here, all this tech to play with.”

Scorpia frowns. “Maybe if we stole a bunch of tech to take with us, she could be convinced?”

Eyes rolling, Catra snarks, “What, you think we’ll be able to load up a skiff and sneak out undetected?”

Her thoughtful expression fading, Scorpia’s face flares up in a wicked blush. “I think maybe she likes me. Maybe she’d come just for that,” muses Scorpia. Her cheeks flush even redder as she meets Catra’s gaze. “Do you think she likes me?”

“Sure, Scorpia,” deadpans Catra. “I dunno.” Scorpia deflates and Catra’s already queasy stomach burbles with guilt. Twitching her mouth in an apology she can’t bring herself to say aloud, she sheepishly backpedals, “My head hurts.”

“Right.” Scorpia sighs. “Well, I guess I’ll head back to the lab, then. Let you get some rest.” Raising an eyebrow, she insists, “Just, promise you’ll think about it.”

Slapping her palms over her face, Catra groans, “Ugh, fine. Whatever.”

“That’s my girl.” Scorpia smiles and nudges her shoulder before scooting off the bed.

“Hey,” Catra says before she can leave, “thanks for letting me stay here. The barracks would’ve been a nightmare.” Seeing the sympathetic look coming over Scorpia’s face, she squares her shoulders and blusters, “I mean, it’s loud and all. Bad for the head.”

“I know, Wildcat,” Scorpia assures her, holding her gaze perceptively.

Catra gulps, her throat swelling with conflicting emotions. Validation and vulnerability. It’s scary, knowing there’s someone she can’t bullshit. That was the upside to Adora being such a dumbass.

Scorpia’s smile turns bright, if a little shy. “You’re always welcome here, okay?”

“Okay.” The word comes out weak, but not because Catra doubts Scorpia. It’s because she doesn’t.

***

_Claws scraping the metal floor, Catra thrashed in Shadow Weaver’s grip as she dragged her into an empty cell. “Please don’t!” she begged in pure desperation. “I swear, I didn’t do it! I swear on Hordak’s name!”_

_What was coming next was so awful that Catra couldn’t help her protests, despite knowing there was no use. Shadow Weaver was hellbent on proving Catra was the culprit, had already torn apart her and Adora’s bunks searching for the missing ration bars._

*

_“It wasn’t me,” Catra insisted flatly, watching with crossed arms as Shadow Weaver tossed Adora’s stripped mattress off the metal frame._

_“So full of lies!” Shadow Weaver turned on her with a hiss, her rage making her levitate higher than normal. “You’re the only cadet on a fast right now. Who else would it be?”_

_“Uh, literally anyone?” It was a struggle to keep her composure, but Catra’s determination was not to be underestimated. She wasn’t a little kid anymore. “Someone greedy. Or someone who wanted to set me up.”_

_Those terrifying white eyes looked down on her with a callous, condescending laugh. “Set you up? Oh, Catra. Nothing is ever your fault, is it?”_

*

_…So much for not showing fear._

_The sight of a small bottle appearing magically in Shadow Weaver’s hand made Catra struggle harder and lock her jaw shut. Shadow Weaver huffed irritably and flicked her fingers, producing red bolts of energy to hold the unruly tween in place. Forcing her mouth open with the binding magic, Shadow Weaver poured the whole bottle down her throat before shoving her toward the toilet in the corner._

_The taste alone made Catra’s stomach buck and eyes water at the awful memory. Only once had she caved and scrounged for scraps in the throes of her hunger, a few years prior. Once was enough to learn her lesson. Shadow Weaver had given her the same potion to make her vomit the crumbs back up, and she’d been unbearably weak and nauseated for days after. Well, to be fair, the weakness might’ve been due to the hunger, or the part where Shadow Weaver paralyzed her with magic and beat the living shit out of her for her defiance and disobedience. Hard to tell._

_This time nothing came up but water and bile. Hugging the metal toilet bowl, Catra rode out several waves of heaving and retching. She panted heavily as the urge finally passed, claws scraping at the metal surface in the midst of her cold sweat. Acid burned her throat and nostrils, tears leaking from her stinging eyes. This is what she got for obeying Shadow Weaver, for submitting to her cruel whims._

_Resting her cheek against the cool metal, out of the corner of her eye Catra caught a glimpse of Shadow Weaver staring in disbelief at the empty bowl. Her eyes slipped shut with a tired sigh. “I told you it wasn’t me.”_

_She wasn’t even intending to be sassy, not really, but of course Shadow Weaver took it that way. Grabbing Catra’s shirt, she tossed her into the wall. “You think you can fool me?”_

_The impact rocked Catra’s core, making her heave again on impulse as she collapsed on her hands and knees. But there was nothing left to come up. Closing in, Shadow Weaver pointed a bony finger in her face. “I know what you did, and you will pay for it, no matter how well you hid the evidence.”_

_“You’re wrong!” Catra shouted, voice breaking in frustration. “You know you’re wrong! Why can’t you just admit you made a mistake?”_

_Shadow Weaver raised a hand and Catra flinched despite her best efforts. “Insolent child!” the sorceress boomed. “The only mistake I ever made was taking you in.”_

_“Well I wish you hadn’t!” Catra yelled right back, angry tears streaming down her cheeks._

_“Is that so?” Shadow Weaver tipped her head patronizingly. “You don’t have to stay here, Catra. If you’d prefer, I could banish you to Beast Island, far from the only people who have ever cared for you.” Catra’s eyes flicked away as a stab of pain struck under her ribs. “You’re nothing without the Horde, without me,” boasted Shadow Weaver. “You’re lucky Lord Hordak convinced me to give you special attention.”_

_“So lucky,” Catra muttered under her breath. Next thing she knew, Shadow Weaver was lifting her off the floor by the front of her shirt. Bitch was stronger than she looked. Must’ve been the magic._

_“So not only do you disobey and lie to me, you show no respect for the sacrifices I’ve made for you. All the time I’ve put into raising you.” Shadow Weaver tightened her grip on Catra’s collar, a deadly heat in her narrowing eyes. “Apologize this instant, you ungrateful runt.”_

_The ever-present chug of machinery was deafening in the otherwise silent room as Catra stared down her tormentor. Despite her well documented stubborn streak, she would often apologize under threat of pain, sacrificing her pride for a bit of relief from her hellish existence. But not this time. Catra would not apologize for something she didn’t do. She would not apologize for being a victim of circumstance, for being Shadow Weaver’s punching bag. For being the person she used to act out her sick fantasies of power. No, Catra wouldn’t give her that satisfaction._

_Finally, a menacing chuckle pierced the air. “You dig your own grave.”_

_Shadow Weaver opened her hand, letting Catra fall to the floor in a heap. “Stay here and think about your defiant, selfish behavior, child,” she ordered, looming over Catra menacingly. Her suddenly sweet tone made it all the more chilling when she promised, “Don’t you worry, I’ll come back.” Cold fingers caressed Catra’s cheek, making her shudder. “And when I do, you’ll be sorry you were ever born.”_

_Shadow Weaver underscored her own theatrics by disappearing into thin air, leaving Catra alone in the cell. Wincing at the spinning and pounding in her head, Catra dragged herself just far enough to collapse against the toilet. She was too weak from hunger and magic and that damn potion to make it to the cot. What was the point, anyway? Why take even a morsel of comfort from this place where she only knew suffering?_

_Besides, she might puke again, and Shadow Weaver would have her head if she made a mess of the cell. Catra crossed her arms over the metal seat and rested her forehead on them in preparation for any future episodes. Hot, helpless tears dripped into the murky water below, polluted with her previous offerings. Too tired to flush, she settled for letting the stench burn her nostrils. Because really, at that point, why the fuck not?_

_No matter what Catra did, she’d always end up right back here, degraded and tortured for having the nerve to exist. Like that was her fault. Shadow Weaver didn’t need to do anything more to her. She already wished she’d never been born._

_In her mind addled with exhaustion and despair, a new thought emerged. She didn’t have to endure whatever horrors Shadow Weaver was planning for her. Turning her head to focus on one hand, she protracted and retracted her claws a few times, comforting herself with the knowledge that she had a way out. She couldn’t help fantasizing about the results. What if Shadow Weaver found her limp body in a pool of blood? Bet she’d be sorry then for how she treated her. Bet she’d be…_

_No, who was Catra kidding? Shadow Weaver would be thrilled. No more having to deal with that nuisance, that pest. That animal. Best of all, no more having to fight for the attention of her precious Adora._

_Adora._

_In an instant, the fantasy lost its appeal. The thought of Adora hearing the news and crumpling to her knees with a cry of despair made Catra’s chest swell and ache. Catra knew that if she lost Adora, she’d feel like part of her own soul had died. How could she subject Adora to that same feeling? She couldn’t. There was no way. So she couldn’t go. She had to stay there… and wait…_

_Tail flicking anxiously behind her, Catra tried to redirect her thoughts to happier things. At some point she’d get out, get to curl up on Adora’s lap or chest and cry into her shoulder. Knowing that was in her future made the thought of whatever would come before more bearable._

_Besides, Catra was no quitter. If she took her own life she’d be remembered as a weakling and a coward, if she was remembered at all. The mere thought was humiliating. Anyway, what better way was there to stick it to Shadow Weaver than to continue to exist and be a pain in her ass? If Catra was good for anything, it was that._

_So Catra resolved to stay, refuse to give up or give in. She’d give Shadow Weaver zero satisfaction, endure the unjust punishment with zero complaints or apologies. She’d show Shadow Weaver how strong she was. Maybe one day Shadow Weaver would even see what she was worth._

_But not today. Definitely not today._

Catra’s eyes pop open in alarm, one ear flicking instinctively. The room is empty, but she can distinctly hear footsteps approaching. She curls tighter into herself, eyes trained unblinking on the door as she swallows down another wave of nausea. When it opens, letting in the bright light of the hallway, Catra has to shield her eyes. Hearing it close with an ominous thunk, she shudders and peeks past her arm to find Entrapta standing there.

Wait, Entrapta?

The inventor’s eyes narrow in concern as she crosses the room, wiggling one hand out of its glove. “Catra, are you okay? You’re looking a little pale.” Reaching the bedside, she reaches out to touch the back of her hand to Catra’s forehead, but Catra flinches away before she can make contact. Entrapta blinks inquisitively. “Catra?”

Ducking farther out of Entrapta’s reach, Catra rasps, “Just feeling sick.” Her throat is still tight from the emotion of the nightmare. Or memory, really. She wishes it was just a nightmare.

When Entrapta pulls her hand back, Catra’s body finally relaxes. Shaking her head to clear it, she asks, “What are you doing here?”

Eyes dropping to her glove as she works her hand back in, Entrapta quietly answers, “I came to say I’m sorry if I offended you earlier. You’re my friend, and I try to be honest with my friends. Scorpia says sometimes it’s better not to tell the truth, but it’s hard for me.” Her brow creases in thought. “I mean, I always want my friends to tell me the truth.” Swallowing, she meets Catra’s gaze. “Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. And what Hordak did to you wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t okay. That wasn’t what I meant, but… Scorpia said it might have sounded that way to you.”

“It’s fine,” mutters Catra. “You weren’t exactly wrong.”

Entrapta’s gaze falls to her fidgeting hands. Haltingly she asks, “Do you forgive me?” Her eyes peek up slightly, checking Catra’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. Catra finds herself torn between the urge to grind the heel of her hand into her forehead and the urge to smile. Smiling wins out, barely.

“Yeah, Trapta,” she chuckles with a sigh. “I forgive you.”

The princess’s demeanor brightens considerably. “Okay, good.” Backing away, she juts her thumb out at the door behind her. “I should get back to the lab, Scorpia’s waiting for me.”

As she’s turning for the door, Catra calls out on instinct. “Hey, Entrapta?” She turns back and Catra takes a deep breath. She said she wanted honesty. Here goes.

“When I was in Bright Moon, I told Adora how Hordak gave you the Black Garnet,” says Catra. “She just about fainted. Turns out she thought you were dead. They all did.” Holding eye contact, she dips her head meaningfully. “They didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

Entrapta turns her face away, gloved hands fidgeting once again. “But you said they abandoned me because they didn’t care about me.”

“I didn’t know. With how Adora left me, and how the others treated Scorpia, I assumed. I… I was wrong.” Tension rises in Catra’s throat from that simple admission, but she gulps it down. She told Shadow Weaver before her execution that she’d never be like her, and she meant it. Summoning her inner strength, she concludes, “I’m sorry, I made a mistake.”

It’s a moment before Entrapta responds, a sad but genuine smile forming on her lips. “It’s okay, Catra. No one’s perfect,” she assures her, a pigtail reaching out to pat Catra on the head before sliding down her cheek. Pulling it back to her body, she says, “Thanks for telling me. And I forgive you, too.”

A strange floating sensation rises in Catra’s chest. Her ears flick against her will, much like they do when someone compliments her. Disoriented by this turn of events, she blinks in rapid succession. “Uh, thanks.”

Entrapta exits with a tiny wave and Catra slumps back down onto the mattress, frowning at the ceiling. She feels… lighter? More relaxed. That’s one less secret on her plate, and revealing it didn’t even result in her being attacked. What a novelty.

Exactly how she’s feeling takes several seconds to sink in. Better. She feels better. Catra’s nose scrunches, a strange thought crossing her mind. Maybe that’s how apologies are supposed to feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update should be up within the next couple of weeks, but I can't really estimate a date yet since I'm working on other projects as well. In the meantime, I have a few more SPOP pieces you can check out if you like. [Full Hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364005) is a super fluffy Catradora future fic (oneshot, soon to be twoshot) and [Done Waiting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20146189) is an angsty AF Scorptra confrontation post season 3 (oneshot, complete). I also write a lot of meta, you can find any of that tagged on [my Tumblr](https://johannas-motivational-insults.tumblr.com).
> 
> Finally, if you're enjoying this piece and feel so inclined, you can leave me a tip on [my Ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/johannas_motivational_insults). If you can't, that's totally cool, I also appreciate comments and fic recs. :D
> 
> Bonus: Rec this fic on social media and tag/alert me and I'll give you early access to the next chapter.
> 
> Until next time!  
> -JMI


	16. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to check in with Adora and see how her betrayal has gone over in Bright Moon!
> 
> Just a heads up, this chapter could be especially disturbing for people raised in religious subcultures, the military, or other environments with similar parenting philosophies. The flashback material isn’t graphic or anything, but it is creepy and uncomfortable, and it could definitely be triggering.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for emotional and implied physical child abuse.

Adora struts out of her latest simulated battle, detransforming and sheathing her sword as the last bot explodes behind her. “Pretty good, huh?”

“Indeed,” concurs Light Hope. “Your performance has improved by thirty-two percent in three days. You are a fast learner, Adora.”

“So I’m told,” Adora smirks cheekily.

Something resembling a fond smile plays across the hologram’s face, warming Adora’s insides. “As I expected, your dedication is paying great dividends. I am glad you changed your mind and decided to stay here, focus on your duties as She-Ra.”

Adora’s smile starts to slip and she turns away to hide her face. Smiles have been hard to come by since she arrived. Part of why she’s been training so much is it’s one of the best ways to distract herself from her feelings of grief and loss.

Unfortunately Light Hope’s mainframe can only handle so much training per day, and the Crystal Castle is depressingly desolate. So instead of moping about inside, Adora’s been spending much of her time out in the woods. Running. Screaming. Longing. Climbing trees and scanning the horizon, caught between two places where she was happy. Places where she felt loved. Places she’s no longer welcome.

Wiping her face of emotion, Adora turns and asks, “Hey, Light Hope, you think you could simulate a gym for me? Like the one back at the Horde?” Light Hope peers at her curiously and Adora attempts a casual posture. “What? They had a training grounds at Bright Moon but it just wasn’t the same.”

“Are these battle simulations not stimulating enough for you?” asks Light Hope. “I could dial up the difficulty.”

Adora shakes her head. “It’s not that. I like fighting as She-Ra. But I like training as Adora, too.”

“There is no need,” Light Hope says blankly. “The capabilities of your regular human form have no bearing on your battlefield performance.”

“Assuming my sword doesn’t get stolen again,” grumbles Adora, only half joking. Light Hope merely blinks, thoroughly unamused. Quickly clearing her throat, Adora explains, “Besides, that’s not the only reason I like to work out. It makes me feel better. Calmer. More confident.”

Light Hope studies her a moment before relenting, “Peace of mind is an important quality for She-Ra’s vessel to possess. If you believe it can help you achieve such a state, I will simulate this ‘gym’ for you.”

Adora smiles with a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Light Hope.”

“You are welcome, Adora. When would you like to-” Light Hope stops mid sentence, wearing much the same expression as Catra gets when her ears perk up suddenly. “Your steed has accessed the premises.”

“What?”

“Your steed, Swift Wind,” she repeats. “He’s here.”

The rumble of the door opening echoes down the corridor, followed by a cacophony of hoofsteps. Swift Wind bursts into the atrium with a flourish of his wings. “Hi, Adora!” he calls out, launching into a loop de loop.

Adora grins despite the ear-grating racket. This is the first friend she’s seen in days. When he lands beside her she throws her arms around his neck.

“How did you find me?” she asks after a few seconds, pulling back to pet his fiery mane. “I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.”

“This was Bow and Glimmer’s first guess.” Apparently not noticing the way Adora’s face falls, he adds, “Besides, as your noble steed, I can sense your location! It’s how I found this place the first time.”

Mouth twitching guiltily, Adora asks, “How are Bow and Glimmer?”

His eyes glint. “Why don’t you ask them yourself, at the meeting?”

“Huh?”

“The weekly Princess Alliance meeting?” Swift Wind sasses her. “You know, the one you’ve attended every week for months?”

Adora’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, I’m invited?”

“You’re She-Ra, you’re kind of an important person to keep in the loop,” he says. “Queen Angella personally sent me to come fetch you.”

“Angella.” Adora laughs nervously. “Great.”

“Adora, I was unaware you had cut ties with the Rebellion,” remarks Light Hope.

“I haven’t exactly, it’s just…” Adora shifts uncomfortably at the hint of accusation in her tone. “I left without saying goodbye. I don’t think anyone there is very happy with me right now.”

Cocking his head, Swift Wind interjects, “Isn’t it more that-”

“Swift Wind!” snaps Adora, slapping one hand onto each side of his snout.

She squeezes hard, holding it shut even as he protests, “Adurrr- ergh.”

Light Hope’s eyes narrow, the exaggerated expression fantastically creepy. “What are you not telling me, Adora?”

“Nothing!” Adora protests automatically, the impulse to lie to avoid unpleasant consequences stronger than any sense of logic. Too bad lying always makes things worse when it’s this obvious. Sweating profusely, she scratches her flushing neck and laughs nervously. “It’s embarrassing. But nothing important, really,” she backpedals. Avoiding Light Hope’s penetrating gaze, she nudges Swift Wind and turns to exit. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Once they’re safely outside, Adora heaves a sigh of relief. Swift Wind neighs in invitation and she climbs aboard. “Let’s get you to that meeting, princess!” he exclaims as he flares his wings and takes off.

Clutching his neck as they gain height, Adora swallows and asks, “Does everyone know?”

“That you’re staying at the Crystal Castle?”

Adora rolls her eyes. “Do they all know why I left?”

“Ohhh. You mean how you got caught making out with Catra and sprung her from prison?” he says. “Yeah, I think pretty much the whole kingdom knows. The jail break part, anyway. It looks bad on the Royal Guard to have a prisoner escape, but if She-Ra helped…”

“Right,” mutters Adora. “Awesome.”

Far too soon, they’re in Bright Moon and touching down on a large balcony near the war council room. Dismounting hesitantly, Adora suggests, “Should I transform?”

“Why?” asks Swift Wind.

Her mouth twitches as she glances at the open patio doors. “I feel like it was She-Ra they invited to the meeting. Not Adora.” The tension in her stomach is leaking into her face, she can feel it, but suddenly she has a faceful of red mane as Swift Wind gently headbutts her cheek. Spitting out a mouthful of hair, she turns to see him wearing a fond, determined smile.

Nudging Adora with his shoulder, he assures her, “Adora or She-Ra, I’ll be right by your side.”

A genuine grin grows on Adora’s face and her fingers subconsciously move to toy with his mane. “Thanks, Swifty.”

Deciding to remain in her usual form, Adora approaches the doors with Swift Wind in tow. A couple soldiers are waiting by the entrance, and one steps forward as she crosses the threshold into the castle.

“Greetings, She-Ra,” the guard welcomes her with a nod. “We’re here to escort you to the meeting.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Adora brushes her off, turning for the council room. “I know the way.” She’s barely taken two steps before the other guard steps into her path, obstructing her progress.

“We have our orders, miss,” the first guard says flatly.

Adora’s eyes bulge. Orders? From one of the generals? From the queen herself?

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Adora gripes. “Can we leave?”

Nudging her back with his snout, Swift Wind answers, “You have to face them sometime, don’t you?”

“Ugh.” Adora rolls her eyes but complies, marching to the council room flanked by guards, like some criminal. She tries not to think too hard about that.

Entering the large room to find the rest of the alliance already seated, Adora takes a deep breath and pastes on a friendly smile. “Hi, everyone,” she greets them with an awkward little wave, hesitantly approaching the table.

No one answers. Most people in the room are wearing expressions ranging from wary glances to unabashed glares. Bow and Spinnerella both give Adora tight smiles while Perfuma titters nervously. Her timid wave is quickly slapped down by Mermista, who otherwise just looks bored.

“Adora,” Queen Angella finally greets her. “Thank you for joining us.”

Slipping into a vacant seat as unobtrusively as possible, Adora asks, “Am I late?”

“No, you’re right on time. Swift Wind was expedient, as usual.”

Adora’s steed preens beside her. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“General?” prompts Angella.

The pretty general with the cool hair steps forward and Adora does her best not to stare, directing her blush at the table. “First matter of business, there’s been a strange development on the part of the Horde,” the general informs them. “There’s been no troop movement in the past week. No advances, no retreats.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” asks Frosta.

“Perhaps, but it’s highly suspicious,” the general replies. “We fear they may be mustering troops in preparation for a larger assault.”

Angella adds, “We entertained the thought that this may be because one of their more aggressive Force Captains was in our custody for a time, but she couldn’t have been gone more than two days. Her disappearance doesn’t account for an entire week of inactivity.”

Shifting in his seat, Bow grimaces apologetically at Adora and then proposes, “What if she didn’t go back?”

The already tense atmosphere turns suffocating. Sweat beads on Adora’s brow as she does her best to avoid a roomful of curious and judgmental gazes. Queen Angella turns to her and calmly asks, “Adora, do you happen to know the whereabouts of Force Captain Catra?”

“Uh, as far as I know, she returned to the Fright Zone. I haven’t seen her since she escaped.”

“You mean since you let her go?” snarks Frosta.

“Yes, since I let her go,” Adora concedes, rolling her eyes.

Glimmer snorts under her breath. “Didn’t stick around, huh?”

Adora’s eyes narrow and flash over to hers. “I didn’t ask her to,” she snaps, suddenly defensive. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t want there to be strings.”

“So she didn’t even, like, promise not to attack Bright Moon in exchange or anything?” inquires Mermista.

“No,” Adora confirms. “It was an act of goodwill. Diplomacy.”

“That’s one word for it,” Netossa remarks under her breath.

“We’re getting off track,” states Angella. “We need to concentrate on the task at hand, not dissolve into petty bickering.” Turning to the resident sorceress, she asks, “Casta, will the protection spell have the capacity to hold off a larger attack if it indeed comes?”

“In theory, yes,” Casta answers haltingly. “But if Light Sp- if Shadow Weaver is able to repeat whatever she did, draw that much power from the Black Garnet again, there’s no telling what she could do with it. She’s powerful, she could easily whip up a counterspell.”

Adora nods along with everyone else for a second until it suddenly clicks and her eyelids flutter. “Oh, actually, wait,” she says. “Shadow Weaver’s dead.”

Glimmer’s eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

“Where did you hear this?” demands Casta.

“From Catra, when she was here,” says Adora.

“Uh, isn’t she the one who led the attack and, like, broke the Moonstone tower?” snarks Mermista.

Throwing the sassy princess a look, Queen Angella rephrases, “What makes you think she’s a reliable source, Adora?”

“It came up in conversation, it didn’t feel like she was feeding me information,” Adora answers honestly. “Besides, the way she was talking about it… look, we both have a lot of history with Shadow Weaver. The way she was acting, it didn’t feel fake at all.”

There’s a few seconds of deafening silence as everyone but Adora seems to share some kind of collective moment, exchanging eye rolls and knowing glances. Adora tenses, wary of being mocked or left out. She knows those looks. Everyone in this room thinks she’s a fucking idiot.

Finally Perfuma dares to speak up. “No offense, Adora, but you’re not exactly impartial when it comes to Catra. I sensed a great disturbance in your energy whenever you were in close proximity during the battle.”

Adora blushes so hard her ears go bright red. “Yeah, it’s a little hard to fight my best friend, okay?” she deflects. Most of the room just stares at her blankly, but she does notice Glimmer wince. Pushing her guilt aside, she attempts to explain herself. “Look, I don’t know for sure if it’s the truth, but it could explain why the Horde’s been at a standstill. Shadow Weaver was Hordak’s second-in-command. If she’s not around to run things, the whole place could fall apart, let alone them making any military progress.”

“That’s a good point, Adora,” Bow praises her much too eagerly. Addressing Angella, he asks, “Do we have any spies in the Fright Zone who could confirm it?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“We shouldn’t need spies,” interjects Casta. “I don’t know about confirming the sorceress’s death, but I can perform a spell to check on the Black Garnet’s activity. If it’s been sitting idle, that all but confirms it.”

“Shadow Weaver’s not the only one who can draw power from it,” says Adora.

“Princess Scorpia has never been known to use the Black Garnet’s powers,” counters Casta. “It’s been in the Horde’s possession since before she was born, so we can assume she never learned how to use it.”

“Not her.” Looking around the room, Adora smirks bitterly. “You all might not believe this because Catra’s apparently so full of lies, but she said Entrapta’s alive and she’s been tinkering with the Black Garnet.”

Glimmer pales. “What?”

Eyes going huge, Bow throws an arm across Glimmer’s chest and leans toward Adora. “Wait, was it her who…?”

He doesn’t have to finish. Everyone knows what he’s thinking. One of their own nearly destroyed the planet.

“I dunno,” shrugs Adora. “Catra didn’t say. But Shadow Weaver’s never tried anything like that before and Entrapta’s all about mixing magic and technology, so yeah, probably.”

That statement hangs heavy in the air for a moment. Glimmer is all but vibrating in her chair, tiny hands clenching into fists, and finally she bursts out, “We have to do something, Mom! We have to save her.”

“Glimmer, I am not authorizing another rescue mission to the Fright Zone, not after how the last one turned out,” Angella answers wearily. “Especially not for someone who’s working for them.”

“They’re probably forcing her to work for them! Torturing her or worse!”

“Catra said Entrapta wanted to tinker with it,” Adora remarks offhandedly, barely even glancing at Glimmer. When Glimmer’s dark laugh echoes through the room, Adora squirms in her seat. It sounds vaguely unhinged, a little like Catra when she’s teetering on the edge of an angry meltdown.

“Oh, Catra says,” Glimmer drawls mockingly. “Guess it must be true, then. Because why would a selfish, conniving traitor ever lie to you?!”

“If anyone’s the traitor, it’s me,” mutters Adora.

Glimmer snorts under her breath. “Well, you’re not wrong there.”

“Glimmer, that’s quite enough,” Angella warns her.

The weak control Adora has over her anger is straining, bending… and when she meets Glimmer’s fiery eyes, it breaks. She stands abruptly, chair scraping the floor as her hands splay on the table. “You know what? I’ve had enough of your shit, Glimmer. When I let Catra go, I was setting things right, doing what should have already been done.”

“Seriously?” Glimmer’s face crumples but continues to flush with anger. “After everything she’s done, after what she did to _us_ ,” she stresses, gesturing at Bow, “you expected us to just let her go?”

“You had no right to apprehend her,” insists Adora.

“Like hell I didn’t!” shouts Glimmer, pounding a fist on the table and hopping to her feet to mirror Adora. “She tried to sneak into the castle.”

“She wasn’t here to fight!”

“No, she was here to suck face.”

They stare each other down, faces red and nostrils flaring dangerously. Glimmer’s fist begins to glow, and Adora braces for a faceful of sparkles.

“...Awkward,” mutters Mermista.

The comment breaks the tension and both of them whip their heads around, suddenly aware again of everyone observing the showdown. Bow’s cringing dramatically and Angella has her eyes squeezed shut in exasperation, fingers digging into her temples.

“This meeting is over,” she declares. “Everyone return to your quarters.”

Glimmer protests, “But-”

“Now!” Angella orders sharply, fixing Glimmer with a terrifying evil eye.

Visibly fuming, Glimmer turns her glare from her mother to Adora before disappearing in an angry pink poof.

“Um, excuse me? Queen Angella?” Perfuma pipes up, waving to get her attention. “Weren’t we going to discuss if we were all still needed here?”

“Yeah, it’s been a couple weeks now and some of us have kingdoms to run, you know,” adds Mermista.

Angella looks about ready to snap, but she manages to answer calmly. “We’ll discuss that tomorrow, once everyone’s had a chance to cool off.”

“A’ight,” says Mermista. “Later, then.” She grabs Perfuma’s arm and tugs her worried frenemy along as she exits.

When Adora turns to follow, Angella speaks again. “Adora, stay behind, please.”

A bolt of anxiety shoots through Adora, making all her muscles go stiff. She’s not looking at Angella, but she can just hear the disapproval, the shoe that’s about to drop. What was she thinking? What possessed her to behave so poorly, to hijack an official meeting for some silly personal drama? Shadow Weaver would’ve bent her over the war table for that kind of insolence. She would’ve-

“I’ll, um…” Swift Wind’s nervous voice mercifully breaks Adora’s thought spiral. “Do you want me to stay?”

Sighing heavily, Adora shakes her head. While she doesn’t want to face this alone, she doesn’t want any witnesses to her humiliation, either. Eyes on the table, she answers, “No, that’s okay. I’ll meet you at the patio.”

Swift Wind’s hoofsteps are fading when a warm hand comes to rest on her shoulder. “Adora?” Bow calls gently. Adora’s eyes flick up to find him peering at her in concern. “You okay?”

“Sure,” she mutters. “Considering.”

Hesitating for just a second, Bow steps in and hugs Adora tightly. The gesture is shocking in the moment, even from Bow, and she barely manages to make her arms return the favor. As Bow lets go, he tells her, “I got your letter. I just want you to know I understand.”

Adora’s forehead crinkles. “You’re not mad?”

“No,” he answers, mouth twitching glumly. “Just sad. I wish you’d come back.”

“Yeah, don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon,” snorts Adora. “They’re not exactly making me feel welcome here.” Guilt niggles at her gut when his face falls farther, and she squeezes his shoulder. “Hey, maybe you could come visit me at the ruins.”

His face brightens slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Adora barely even has to try to smile. “I’d like that. I miss you too.”

“Adora,” comes Angella’s voice again.

Tensing up at the summons, Adora answers, “Coming!” Giving Bow a parting pat on the arm, she swivels and marches up to Angella, who’s now standing beside her general. Clearing her throat awkwardly, Adora starts to salute but catches herself halfway, turning the gesture into a sweeping bow.

“At ease, Adora,” sighs Angella.

At ease? Seriously? How could anyone possibly expect Adora to be at ease in this situation? Too late, she’s realizing that transforming might have been a good idea. She’s about to have her ass handed to her, and both these women tower over her, just like-

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Adora says stiffly, arms glued to her sides. “That was out of line and unprofessional. I apologize for being so disruptive and letting my temper get the best of me. It won’t happen again.”

“You just described my daughter in a nutshell, Adora,” Angella remarks dryly. “That’s not why I wished to speak with you.”

Adora gulps, clasping her fingers together to keep them from fidgeting. The excessive warmth only makes her palms sweat more.

“I want you to know I appreciate your good intentions,” begins Angella, “and I understand why you made the choice you did. But that does not change the fact that you defied me and betrayed the kingdom that put their trust in you. You promised your allegiance to us, not the Horde.”

Adora squints. “Catra isn’t-”

“I’m not finished,” Angella interrupts, raising a hand to silence her. Adora’s vision begins to blur and she bites her lip, avoiding eye contact. “I know what Catra means to you,” Angella assures her. “I know you were saving a dear friend from an unsavory situation. But are you aware of what else you did?”

Adora doesn’t respond. This seems like one of those questions she’s not supposed to answer. This is confirmed when Angella’s voice goes hard and she spells out, “You helped a high-ranking Horde officer escape our custody, giving her a lesson in all of Bright Moon’s weaknesses in the process.”

“Well, to be fair, I gave all of you a lesson in your weaknesses, too,” Adora points out. Eyeing the general, she asks, “Why would you only leave one guard outside the cell of such a dangerous prisoner? Now you know better.”

Angella’s eyes narrow. “I am not in the mood for jokes nor back talk, young lady. I get enough of that from Glimmer, thank you very much.”

“I’m not joking,” says Adora, brow furrowing slightly. “I’m sure you’ve already made adjustments so it won't happen again.” Snorting inwardly, she mutters, “Besides, you got rid of your biggest weakness. Me.”

“You are not a weakness, Adora,” sighs Angella. “Anything but. However, you have made yourself a liability,” she states. “I hope you can understand why it may be difficult for the rebellion to trust your word or your judgment from now on.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Adora’s eyes fall as she swallows thickly. “I understand.”

“Do you?” demands the general, and Adora’s head snaps up to meet her fiery gaze. It’s the first time the woman has spoken in a while, but Adora has not missed the simmering anger in her expression. She gulps as the general continues, “How can you expect us to continue fighting by your side? You betrayed us. You lied to members of the Royal Guard and took one of them hostage. You made my soldiers look like dimwits.”

 _Look like?_ Adora almost says. No, that would definitely be backtalk. Instead she stands as tall as she can in this form and answers, “You will continue to fight by my side because it’s in your best interest. We have a common enemy. You don’t have to trust me, or like me, but I’ll be here when the Horde attacks, defending this castle with my life as I did before. If that’s not enough to earn your trust, then so be it,” sighs Adora, shrugging wearily.

The general shoots her a withering glare. “You have some nerve, young lady. Do you expect us to forget what you’ve done just because you’re She-Ra?”

“No,” Adora swiftly denies, giving her head a hard shake.

“But you expect us to excuse it. You think you can get away with anything because you’re special, don’t you?”

“I- I- I don’t-” Adora stammers, suddenly overheating and short of breath.

“Don’t you?!” the general barks, leaning in slightly.

A heavy feeling settles on Adora, crushing her lungs and tempting her to sink to the ground, to cover her ears and curl into herself. The general is still talking, but Adora can’t distinguish any words, only her censuring tone and the primal fear it evokes in the core of her being.

_Adora’s hands fidgeted in her lap, stubby legs swinging off a bench outside Shadow Weaver’s office. Not the Black Garnet Chamber, Adora had never seen the inside of it at that point. She figured out later in life that Shadow Weaver was more likely to call you there if she was planning for magic to be involved in one way or another, since she could easily recharge there. In retrospect, that explained why Catra got called there so often._

_The sound of yelling from inside the office made Adora’s shoulders clench and rise, one thumb incessantly scratching the skin of the other. It wasn’t enough to distract from the noises, though, or the terror. Adora was next. Kyle had already left a whimpering mess some five minutes ago, and now it was Lonnie’s turn to face the wrath of Weaver. Catra and Rogelio were off in some special “conditioning” class (whatever that was) that afternoon, so it’d just been the three of them on their little misadventure._

_Adora’s attempts to calm herself only became more futile when she heard the sound of a blow followed by a sharp yelp. Pulling her knees into her chest, Adora slapped her hands over her ears to muffle the continued yelling. She’d be fine. She’d be fine. Lonnie had a bit of a mouth on her, and she’d only seen Shadow Weaver slap cadets when they talked back to her. As long as she didn’t talk back, she’d be fine. Unfortunately, she had a habit of doing so without meaning to._

_The door opened and Adora froze, only realizing then that she’d begun rocking herself back and forth like some dumb baby. Thankfully Lonnie didn’t seem to notice the display of weakness, teary eyes on the floor as she pulled the door shut behind her. When she looked up, Adora flinched at the angry red mark on her cheek and she scoffed._

_“Don’t worry, Adora,” Lonnie muttered as she passed by._ “You’ll _be fine.”_

_Frowning down at her knees, Adora pulled them tighter into her body. Being favored by Shadow Weaver was both a blessing and a curse. She was usually spared the harshest punishments, but got grief for it from the others. Sometimes she wished she wasn’t special. She couldn’t tell if the others actually liked her or if they just tolerated her because she was Shadow Weaver’s favorite._

_The door flew open suddenly, making Adora startle and drop her knees. “Adora!” Shadow Weaver called from inside. “Come.”_

_Adora slid off the bench and onto shaky legs, forcing them to move toward the danger, not away. If she ran, she’d only make it worse. She knew that from observing Catra’s escape attempts. Even if she got away, she couldn’t run forever. Better to get it over with._

_Closing the door behind her, Adora gingerly approached Shadow Weaver’s desk. She was aggressively scribbling notes on some kind of report, huffing to herself. Adora couldn’t help tensing at the ominous body language, and she fully froze when Shadow Weaver looked up, locking her glowing eyes onto her. Oh, this was gonna be_ bad.

_“Have I been too soft with you, Adora?” asked Shadow Weaver._

_“Uh…” Unsure what answer her guardian was digging for, Adora tried, “No, Shadow Weaver?”_

_White eyes narrowing into slits, Shadow Weaver warned her, “Do not try my patience, young lady.” Heart and lungs speeding up, Adora clasped her hands behind her back, wringing and pulling her fingers so hard they started to go numb. Still eviscerating Adora with her eyes, Shadow Weaver informed her, “Lonnie and Kyle both said it was your idea to steal the weapons from the simulation room.”_

_Blinking bewilderedly, Adora protested, “We didn’t steal th-”_

_A cold, tingly sensation cut her off mid sentence, freezing her lips and tongue in place. Adora glanced down to see a crackling red glow surrounding her lips. Shutting Adora’s mouth with one motion of her fingers, Shadow Weaver scolded her, “No back talk, now.”_

_Squirming in discomfort, Adora squinted at the sorceress. She wasn’t even back talking, she was just trying to clear up the facts. Apparently Shadow Weaver didn’t care to listen, only talk. “‘Borrowing’ is as good as stealing. You have all been told since day one that no weapons are to leave the armory or training areas without permission, have you not?”_

_Adora nodded, stinging eyes falling to her feet._

_“Do you think the rules don’t apply to you, Adora?”_

_She shook her head._

_“So why, pray tell, did you decide to disobey clear, direct orders?” With a flick of Shadow Weaver’s hand, the magic dissipated._

_Shifting her aching jaw, Adora tried to come up with an explanation that would not be considered back talk. Shadow Weaver had unfrozen her lips, so she must be expecting some kind of answer. “I…” Adora gulped, blinking her eyes dry._ Show no weakness. _“I was playing Force Captain, like you told me to. Leading my squad on a mission.”_

 _“That’s a pathetic excuse,” snapped Shadow Weaver, eyes narrowing and glowing brighter. “You do not need real weapons to play some silly game. Are you stupid, or simply incapable of doing as you’re told?”_

_“I’m sorry,” whispered Adora, voice tight and threatening tears._

_“I’m sure you are, dear girl. But we need to see to it that this doesn’t happen again,” said Shadow Weaver, floating out of her chair and rounding the desk. “Do not think that my fondness for you puts you above the rules. You will suffer the consequences of your disobedience, like anyone else.”_

_Adora’s heart jumped into her throat. “But-”_

_“But what, Adora?” boomed Shadow Weaver. Suddenly she was levitating with rage, towering even taller over the trembling child. “What made you think I would allow such flagrant disobedience from you? Because you’re_ special?” _Her mocking tone made Adora’s eyes spill over. “No. I expect more of you, Adora. The others look up to you. They followed you and your terrible example, and they were punished as well. If you continue to misbehave, it will happen again. Do you want that for them?”_

_“No,” whispered Adora._

_The darkness faded from the air and Shadow Weaver sunk back to her usual terrifying height. “I should hope not,” she remarked. Holding Adora’s gaze, she patted the edge of the desk. “Come here.”_

_Adora froze, heart suddenly pounding in her ears. Her lip quivered. “Sh-Shadow Weaver, please-”_

_“Enough,” Shadow Weaver cut her off sharply, lifting a hand to silence her. “Good soldiers accept the consequences of their actions without theatrics. Are you a good soldier, Adora?”_

_“Yes, ma’am,” stated Adora, automatically snapping into a straight posture._

_Shadow Weaver extended a hand and Adora gulped as she motioned her forward. “Now, come.”_

_Adora did as she was told._

A hand grips Adora’s arm, squeezing tight enough to seize her attention. “Adora?”

Adora’s eyes flutter and slowly manage to focus, finding Queen Angella’s concerned face. “Adora?” she repeats. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Yes,” Adora assures her, snapping back to attention. “Sorry, Your Majesty. I spaced out, I guess.” Her eyes flick between Angella and the general, who’s watching her with a peculiar expression. Adora stares right back at them, utterly confused until she feels tears dripping from her chin. Quickly wiping her cheeks, she addresses the general with a smile. “You were saying?”

The general looks a little thrown, but nevertheless replies, “I was explaining the new security limitations you’ll be required to follow.” When Adora nods, she continues, “You are only permitted in Castle Bright Moon in the presence of at least two guards. You are permitted in the kingdom off the castle grounds if you wish, but we won’t be sparing any soldiers to escort you and guarantee your safety.”

Memories of slicing through a tent and dodging arrows to escape a screaming mob play in Adora’s head. “I’ll pass,” she mutters, eyes downcast.

“You deserve far worse,” the general retorts. Her narrowing eyes inform Adora that she has said something inflammatory again, go figure. “You can thank Princess Glimmer for convincing us to allow you into the kingdom at all.”

“Glimmer?” Adora blinks, a spark of hope flaring in her chest. “I didn’t think she wanted to see me.”

“She thinks you’re valuable to the rebellion,” the general corrects her.

Those words are a true gut punch, knocking the wind out of Adora and crumpling her face. Shoulders slumping, she looks to Angella for some kind of lifeline.

“Is all this really necessary, Your Majesty?” she asks, desperation seeping into her tone as she gestures at the guards waiting for her by the door. She came in determined to face the consequences of her actions with dignity, but the disappointment and distrust hurt far worse than any physical blow ever could. “It’s just me, Adora.”

“Don’t push your luck,” the general interjects. “If you wanted free run of the place you should have followed the rules.”

Angella silences the general with a flick of her hand and meets Adora’s gaze, her expression stony. “The Royal Guard determines necessary security measures for the palace. While I understand this situation was special and I personally don’t doubt your dedication to the rebellion, my feelings are irrelevant. This kind of behavior cannot be tolerated, and there must be consequences.” Her head tips slightly. “We are at war, Adora. You do understand that, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” answers Adora, fists clenching at her sides. She’s not stupid. She’s not. Why does everyone keep talking to her like she’s stupid?

Nodding her approval, Angella declares, “I hope that in due time you will prove yourself to us again, She-Ra, Princess of Power.”

The use of her formal title just about sends Adora into a tailspin, but she forces herself to stand tall and answer stoically, like a good soldier. “I will. And I understand. Thank you f-” Her voice cracks and she flinches, berating herself. _No theatrics._ Swallowing hard, she finishes, “Thank you for your hospitality. I’ll see you next week.”

Nodding in farewell, Adora pivots on her heel and marches out of the room, ignoring the guards who follow on her tail. Halfway to the patio, tears begin streaming down her flushed cheeks. She grits her teeth, trying and failing to control her breathing as her hands tremble with unspent emotion. Is this what it feels like to be Catra, betrayed by her friends and denounced by her superiors, angry at the whole damn world?

Well, to be fair, Adora’s mostly angry with herself. She can’t even withstand a well deserved lecture without dissolving into a puddle of tears. Shadow Weaver would be ashamed. Adora sure is. For all her efforts, she’s a terrible soldier.

_“Now now, there’s no need to cry,” Shadow Weaver scolded Adora, wiping a tear from her cheek. Adora couldn’t help but recoil, and this did not go unnoticed. She was forced to meet Shadow Weaver’s eyes when the sorceress tipped her jaw up with a finger, and Adora was surprised to find her gaze suddenly much softer._

_“You know I do this because I care about you,” she said, and Adora couldn’t help but avert her eyes again. “Believe it or not, this is for your own good, Adora. You must learn to behave, there’s no room for rebels in the Horde.” Shadow Weaver brushed away another tear with her thumb, tenderly this time. “I only want the best for you, my child.”_

_Adora forced her eyes back to Shadow Weaver and nodded. It made sense. She’d been bad, she had to learn her lesson._

_“Are you going to follow the rules now?”_

_Adora sniffled and gulped, steadying her voice. “Yes, Shadow Weaver.”_

_“Good girl.” Shadow Weaver gave her cheek a soft pat and she tried not to cringe at the contact, gentle as it now was. “Dismissed.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an autistic Adora headcanon and it came out to play hard in this chapter tbh. Many thanks to [Call_Me_Ren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Call_Me_Ren/pseuds/Call_Me_Ren) ([a.k.a. sheraraven](https://sheraraven.tumblr.com)) for beta reading this chapter and her second opinion on that aspect of Adora’s characterization. I am on the spectrum too but know better than to assume my experiences speak for everyone.
> 
> Okay, so, an explanation. I waffled for a while on whether to confirm that Shadow Weaver used corporeal punishment on Adora or to just continue hinting at it, seeing as the evidence for it in canon is isn't concrete and it's rare to see in fanfics. But I finally decided to confirm it because a) the parenting philosophy I've written for Shadow Weaver in this fic lends itself to that, b) it's common in military and religious environments, and the Horde is (coded as) both, and c) the big one, Adora's remarks in 3x01 about only being special as long as she obeyed Shadow Weaver suggested that she didn't always get preferential treatment, and the way she said it had this note of bitterness in it that just... yeah. Adding that to the way I've written SW in the fic, it just felt like now and this flashback was the time and place to confirm it, the themes of this chapter presented an obvious opportunity.
> 
> Also, this new information might seem to contradict Adora's earlier remarks about having never being slapped, but there is definitely a difference between that and ritualized corporeal punishment. One is impulsive and driven by anger while the other is planned and very intentional, and they don't always come as a package with any given parent. I feel like that's an important distinction to make.


	17. Blood in the Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Catralonnie chapter nobody asked for. :D
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for bullying, but tbh it's nothing too traumatic.

Buzzing lights and whirring machines grate at Catra’s tender ears as she drags her feet down the hall. They flick in protest, a pained expression trying to push the scowl off her face, but she refuses to let it show. The other cadets will pounce on blood in the water, a vast amount of experience has made her certain of that. She managed to dart in and out of the mess hall this morning without attracting much attention, but there’s no way she’ll be able to avoid an ass kicking in a room designed for ass kicking.

Sergeant Cobalt tracked her down yesterday and told her to either get her ass to training or the infirmary by morning or he’d report her for dereliction of duty. Catra would rather be mocked for her weakness and failures than give people even more reason to mock her, so training it is.

Her stomach gurgles and aches as she trudges through these familiar halls that she hoped never to traverse again, not like this. Her shoulders shrug up and tail twitches as she nears the locker room. Her year’s class has had that room since they were toddlers first learning how to fall safely and throw punches without breaking their wrists. The shelves and hooks in their lockers moved higher as they grew but the room mostly stayed the same, just got more crowded as more ‘orphans’ were found. When they graduate into the regular ranks the year they turn twenty, it’ll go to a new class of toddlers.

Catra frowns at the door in passing. A few of her best memories were made in that room, but those were all with Adora and they’re bittersweet to remember now. Mostly it was bad memories, anyway. She tries not to think about them as she continues toward the training rooms, but she can’t really help it… 

_Catra was the last one out of the showers that day. Oftentimes she was first out thanks to her distaste for water, unless her hair was getting ratty and Adora made her stay and wash it. But whenever she’d recently taken a beating she did her best to dawdle and get in just as everyone was leaving. Her fur was thin and short enough in places for her cuts and bruises to show, and while everyone had bruises from their daily combat training, sometimes Catra’s were obviously acquired elsewhere. She didn’t want anyone to see the proof of how weak she was, how Shadow Weaver had made her her personal punching bag. The proof of her degradation would only mark her an easy target, lead more cadets to pick on her._

_Thankfully that day she’d had a great excuse to dawdle, a bloody nose that she had to stop first. She got it a few minutes before training ended, when she gloated a little too hard after beating Lonnie in a wrestling match. Adora had managed to step in before it got really ugly, but not before they each got a few punches in. She’d been closer to Lonnie and had grabbed her from behind, and Catra had barely refrained from taking a cheap shot at her defenseless and extremely annoying squadmate._

_Just Catra’s luck, the nosebleed restarted in the shower and delayed her even more, so the locker room was mostly empty by the time she finished. She was just opening her locker when someone snatched the towel right off her body, leaving her naked and dripping in a room of about a dozen cadets._

_“Hey!” she yelped, spinning and trying to grab the towel back, but she was an instant too late. Lonnie was already holding it pointedly out of her reach, taunting Catra with her eyes. Claws baring on instinct, Catra snarled, “What the fuck, Lonnie?”_

_“What?” Lonnie cackled, pointedly raking her eyes over Catra’s body. “Not like you have anything to hide.”_

_A few snickers from around the room made Catra’s eyes flick about. It’s not like the cadets didn’t see each other naked all the time anyway, but the indignity of it all was too much. Especially given her self-consciousness over the bruising and her lack of… assets._

_“Give it back!” Catra demanded. She was tempted to lunge for the towel but didn’t want to step away from the lockers and expose her bruises. If Lonnie had seen anything she didn’t say, thankfully. Not that she’d care._

_“Give it back!” another girl echoed high-pitched from somewhere in the room, sparking a round of giggles that made Catra curl in on herself, tail lashing behind her._

_Lonnie chuckled lowly. “Or what? You’ll sic Adora on me?” She glowered at Catra through the shiner she’d given her, already swelling and beginning to bruise. “She’s the only reason anyone puts up with you and all your bullshit, you know. Being her pet sure has its perks.”_

_Rogelio let out a warning snarl from down the bank of lockers and Lonnie quickly put her hands up. “Ah, shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”_

_Of course Lonnie apologized to Rogelio, not Catra. Rogelio and her got along, always had. Catra snatched the towel back while Lonnie was distracted and quickly wrapped it back around her shoulders, prompting another glaring contest._

_Ears twitching irritably and beginning to flatten against her head, Catra snarked, “Whatever, Lonnie. You’re just jealous.”_

_Lonnie scoffed. “Jealous of you? Bitch, please. I don’t need some meathead watching my back to survive in this place. Really, I’m sorry for you. What’s it like to be so pathetic?” Tipping her head, she leaned in menacingly. “You better keep Adora happy, ‘cause if she ditches you, ain’t no one else coming to save you.”_

_“I don’t need saving,” Catra shot back, shoving Lonnie out of her space. “I can take care of myself.”_

_“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Lonnie feigned deep thought for a moment, humming to herself before remarking, “So, never, I guess.”_

_Taking a moment to smirk and stare Catra down, Lonnie finally turned and sauntered out of the room. Kyle let out a sigh of relief as soon as the door closed behind her, and Rogelio caught Catra’s eye and gave her a sympathetic shrug. Even back then, Catra couldn’t stand sympathy._

_“What are you creeps looking at?” snapped Catra, pulling the towel even tighter around her body. “Do I need to put a ‘No Boys Allowed’ sign on my junk?”_

_Catra was more perceptive than most, she’d noticed the way Kyle and Rogelio looked (and didn’t look) at each other, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t swing both ways. Not that they’d be into her, anyway, not in a million years. Lizard hybrids were the second-most common species in the Horde, but she was the only cat hybrid, the kitty with no titties. Well, they’d come in somewhat since that dickhead called her that a couple years back, but she wasn’t busty or burly like Lonnie and Adora. There was nothing to lust after._

_The joke garnered a bit of laughter from the others still in the room, which made Catra’s ears prick up a little and her posture straighten. Kyle’s nervous cringe brought a vicious grin to her face and she added, “Or maybe just ‘No Pussies’?”_

_She was considering saying more when Rogelio huffed and turned his back on her, blocking Kyle from her view and leaving her smile to fall. Turning back to her locker, she frowned to herself and pulled out a clean uniform._

Catra slips into the training facilities at the last minute, when everyone is gathered to begin but still chatting amongst themselves. Swallowing her nerves, she quietly rounds the group of cadets and sidles up to her old squad.

“Hey, guys,” she greets them, crossing her arms and flashing a smile brimming with confidence she doesn’t feel.

“Well, look who’s back,” Lonnie comments neutrally. She squints at Catra’s black eye but doesn’t ask about it, which Catra appreciates.

“Nice to have you back, Catra,” Kyle says with a weak smile, weight on his back foot, clearly on his guard. It makes Catra grin. At least someone’s still afraid of her.

“Hey, Kyle,” she purrs, reaching up to drag a claw along his jaw. When he gulps her smile grows wider. “I’ve missed your pretty face. Would be a shame if something happened to it, hm?” Rogelio growls and Catra raises an eyebrow. “Chill, big guy, I’m just teasing. Wouldn’t dare destroy your boyfriend’s best asset.”

Rogelio chuckles, which is really more of a huffing sound, before emitting a series of clicks and grunts that make the girls cringe and Kyle turn beet red.

“Hel!” he gasps, smacking his boyfriend’s snout.

“Gross, dude,” Lonnie protests. “I mean, we’ve all seen it, but I don’t want to think about it.”

Rogelio slings an arm around Kyle’s shoulder and speaks directly into his ear.

“Please,” huffs Kyle, “you said ‘for a human.’ That is not a compliment.”

“How would you know, Kyle?” teases Lonnie. “You get a wide variety of lizard cock?”

“Do you?” he shoots back.

Catra rolls her eyes, head shaking in disgust. All this talk of dicks is making her miss Adora. Not like ‘miss her’ miss her, just miss her because she would be similarly disgusted, and even more embarrassed.

“I’m disowning you freaks,” mutters Catra.

“Already tried that,” Lonnie remarks flatly. “Didn’t really take, did it?”

Catra’s lips curl back in a snarl and her fists clench. She’s just leaning in to give Lonnie a piece of her mind (and maybe her fists) when a banging sound from up front interrupts them.

“At attention, cadets!” Octavia barks into the crowd.

Catra’s stomach drops, gurgling in her bowels. Having to respond to that is the worst feeling in the world. Two months of giving orders, and now she’s right back here. And of course their trainer today is Octavia, since apparently the entire universe is determined to shit on her right now. Thankfully Octavia directs nothing more than a glare at Catra - for now - before instructing them to pair off for sparring with staffs.

Kyle and Rogelio immediately exchange a look and head for one of the weapons racks while Catra pointedly avoids eye contact with everyone, banking for once on being the outcast. An odd number of cadets would probably be too much to hope for, but she’s feeling sluggish and foggy as well as antisocial. She probably should have opted for the infirmary, truth be told. She’s just starting to wonder if she got lucky when someone bumps shoulders with her, and she looks up to find Lonnie extending a staff in offering.

“Looks like it’s you and me, huh?” Lonnie’s grin says it all. She finally has an excuse to beat on Catra for lording power over her for the last couple months. Not that Catra doesn’t deserve it, but she wishes they could have this showdown when she wasn’t feeling out of sorts. She glances around to room to find all the other cadets paired off, and anyone else looking her way is eyeing her with disdain, anyway. Lonnie might actually be her best option, and that’s pathetic.

“Guess it is,” grumbles Catra, snatching the staff and getting set in a defensive stance. Lonnie continues to grin, relishing the moment, but her ensuing attack is decidedly lacking in speed or force. Catra raises an eyebrow after batting away a few weak swings. “Going easy on me?”

Lonnie smirks and gives her a little shrug. “Figure you’d be out of practice, cushy officer’s life and all.”

“Joke’s on you, dipshit,” snorts Catra. “Haven’t done much of this, but Scorpia’s been working me hard in the boxing ring.”

“Scorpia.” Lonnie hums. “She’s the really buff one with the white hair, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason,” she says nonchalantly, averting her eyes for a split second before remembering she’s in a combat situation. Catra may fight dirty, but the lapse surprises her and she doesn’t even think to take advantage. “She seems tough but nice,” Lonnie remarks, and unless Catra's mistaken there's a light dusting of pink on her cheeks. Lonnie shrugs it off before she can be sure. “Probably a good teacher.”

“Yeah, she is,” Catra muses, almost losing focus for a second.

Lonnie kindly returns the favor and doesn’t strike. Less kindly, she begins an interrogation. “So, how’ve you been?”

Snorting into an attack combo, Catra snarks, “Since when do you care how I’m doing?”

Lonnie squints, holding her off. “You’re my squadmate. Of course I care.”

“You didn’t care all those times you picked on me when we were kids,” snaps Catra.

“I mean, I picked on you sometimes, sure,” Lonnie says, eyebrows knitting, “but I stepped in to help when bigger kids tried to beat you up, or don’t you remember? We stick together, we always have.”

Catra scoffs. “Right.”

Mouth sharpening into a snarl, Lonnie shoves her staff up against Catra’s, forcing her to push back in defense. Catra grimaces as that pounding starts up in her head again.

“You’re no better, you know, with that ‘Cadet Lonnie’ shit you pulled when you got promoted,” retorts Lonnie. “Even before, you always picked on Adora and called her dumb and stuff. You were the only one who could get away with it.”

“That was just teasing,” scoffs Catra. “We were best friends, she didn’t care.”

Lonnie’s eyes narrow and she demands, “How do you know?”

“I-” Catra’s forehead scrunches as she considers this. “I mean, she never said anything.”

“Of course she didn’t,” snorts Lonnie. She comes in on the attack again, harder this time, and manages to land a few blows. Catra can’t help but notice, however, that she’s targeting all her strikes to the body. None to the head.

“Look, that’s how things are around here,” Lonnie finally says. “We all do what we have to do to feel like we’re not the scum of the earth. Doesn’t mean we don’t care about each other. I’d protect Kyle with my life, wouldn’t you?”

“I mean, I guess,” admits Catra. Wary of all this mushy bullshit, she tacks on, “He needs it, so.”

That makes Lonnie grin. “Right?” Suddenly she snorts as the irony dawns on her. “See?”

“Yeah,” Catra mutters with a shrug, “I guess.”

Holding her gaze intently, Lonnie repeats, “So, how are you?” When Catra raises an eyebrow she rolls her eyes and spells out, “Your reflexes are slow, your balance is off, and it hurts you to push too hard. I’ve had concussions too, Catra.”

“So what?”

“So I wanna know if whoever hurt you is someone I can beat up,” Lonnie answers matter-of-factly.

Catra pauses mid-strike, face suddenly darkening. “Fuck you, Lonnie, I don’t need a bodyguard,” she spits. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” Lonnie assures her with a smile that appears genuine. It throws Catra for a loop, but she doesn’t have long to think before Lonnie’s coming at her again, hard.

After a few moments of fending off attacks, Catra mutters, “No.”

Lonnie blinks. “No, what?”

“No, he’s not,” clarifies Catra.

Lonnie grunts into a perturbed frown, deep creases forming in her brow. “‘Kay, well, I ain’t gonna pry. Just know I’ve got your back if any of these assholes try to give you a second impact,” she says, gesturing at the other cadets. “Can’t let your brains get scrambled when you’ve got no brawn.”

“Fuck off, Lonnie,” Catra chuckles, jabbing at her adversary’s torso. “I’ll kick your ass.”

And she does, concussion be damned.

***

It’s late afternoon by the time Catra makes it back to Scorpia’s room, and her head is pounding. Getting some exercise was nice, but she no doubt overdid it. All she wants to do is collapse and sleep for the rest of the day, but when the door opens she finds Scorpia lounging on the bed, reading some kind of tactical guide.

“Oh, Scorpia,” she greets her in surprise, doing her best to hide her disappointment. “Didn’t think you’d be here.” She really didn’t. The big lug seems to be allergic to alone time and spends most of her time training cadets or hanging out in Entrapta’s lab.

“Hey, Wildcat.” Scorpia smiles and gives her a small wave. “How was training?”

“Uh, fine, I guess.” Catra shrugs. “Tiring. Not used to so much in one day anymore.” Lonnie was right about her being out of practice in that sense, at least. Her endurance has taken a hit, or maybe that’s just the concussion. Probably not, though, if she’s being honest.

“Oh, well you can rest here if you need,” Scorpia offers, sitting up and patting the mattress. “One of Entrapta’s new bots was having some kind of existential crisis and attacked us. Decided I needed a break from the chaos, but I can go back if you need some quiet.”

“I mean, if you could for a bit, that’d be helpful,” Catra admits, frowning to herself. “But this is the last time you’ll have to work around me. I’m moving back to the barracks tonight.” When Scorpia gives her a questioning look, she shrugs. “My squad’s there. Besides, it’s time I gave you your room back. I can take care of myself, and it’s not fair you have to keep crashing in the lab.”

“Oh.” Scorpia’s cheeks turn pink as she scratches the back of her head, the start of a smirk pulling at her lips. “Well, I wasn’t in any rush.”

“Wait…” Catra’s eyes narrow. “You and Entrapta? That's actually happening?”

“Yeah.” Scorpia chuckles, smiling fondly. “Turns out being kicked out of my own bed was a blessing in disguise.”

“I didn’t kick you out, you kicked yourself out,” says Catra. “That’s good, though. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Scorpia’s eyes flick from side to side and she asks, “Hey, can you…?” She points at the table, confusing Catra for a second until she spots the sound blocker box among Scorpia’s things.

“Oh, yeah.” Catra walks over and presses the power button before turning to Scorpia, leaning back against the table with her arms folded expectantly.

Peering up at her curiously, Scorpia asks, “Is it true, what you told her about the princesses thinking she was dead?”

Catra cocks a challenging eyebrow. “Callin’ me a liar?”

“No, no, not at all. Just surprised me. I didn’t think they’d care.” Scorpia’s lips purse. “Makes sense they’d leave her, getting the others back was more important.”

“Yeah, well,” snorts Catra. “Turns out princesses are full of surprises.”

“You’re telling me,” cracks Scorpia. Catra smirks lewdly and Scorpia really blushes this time. It’s cute. “Not just that. I, uh, I actually talked her into leaving. She said we can take Emily out on a tech-gathering mission and just not come back, shack up in Dryl instead.”

The blood drains from Catra’s head and for a second she could swear she’s falling, falling, falling. Her nails dig into the metal underside of the table, holding her steady as this latest blow sinks in. The first concrete thought she can manage is that, once again, she’s orchestrated her own undoing. She encouraged Scorpia and Entrapta to get closer without her so Scorpia would give her a little more space, admittedly. But this is too much space. She never intended to make herself expendable. Gods, she’s such an idiot.

Though she tries not to show any emotion, Catra’s ears betray her by flattening against her skull, tail flicking behind her in distress. There’s a distinct sour undertone in her voice as she glares at the floor and asks, “Good for you. When do you leave?”

“Catra, it’s not like that,” Scorpia assures her steadily. “We’re not leaving without you.”

Catra’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Either all of us go, or none of us go,” reiterates Scorpia. Standing from the bed, she approaches cautiously. “Look, I meant what I said the other day. I won’t leave you guys behind. Especially not you, not after how Hordak treated you. And if we left he’d definitely assume you knew, take it out on you. I’m not leaving you here to suffer the consequences of my betrayal.”

Before Catra realizes what she’s doing, she’s thrown her arms around Scorpia. Upon coming to her senses she blushes hard, absolutely mortified at the display of weakness. But she knows that at this point awkwardly disentangling herself and pretending it didn’t happen would only serve to embarrass her further. Better to act like she meant to do it all along. So she goes all in and squeezes, resting her head on Scorpia’s sizable bust. For such a pointy, chitinous being, she’s actually quite comfy.

Scorpia gasps. “W-Wildcat, are you really-“

Catra slaps a hand over her mouth. “Shh. Don’t make it weird.”

“Okay,” comes Scorpia’s muffled voice.

Satisfied at that, Catra slides her arm around Scorpia again and locks her hands together. They can barely reach each other behind the hulking woman’s back. When Scorpia’s arms wrap around Catra gently she sighs, letting her eyes fall shut. Good. Scorpia’s learning.

Impressively, Scorpia lasts at least five seconds before her excitement gets the better of her. Giving a hearty squeeze that knocks the breath from Catra’s lungs, she squeals, “So, does this mean you’re coming?”

“I…” Pulling away, Catra wraps her arms around herself and stares down at her tapping foot. Her thoughts and emotions are all jumbled, especially after that weird interaction with Lonnie. Her throbbing brain can’t make heads or tails of any of it.

“I need to think,” she finally answers, eyes unwittingly pleading for patience and understanding. “I’m not ready.”

“Okay,” Scorpia assures her without delay. “We’ll wait for you.”

Catra releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding, a grateful smile crossing her face. “Thanks, Scorp.”

Scorpia beams at the nickname. Reaching out to nudge Catra’s shoulder, she says, “Okay, well, I’ll let you get some rest. And you can go back to the barracks if you want, but you know you’re always welcome here, and in the lab. Don’t be a stranger.”

Smirking playfully, Catra declares, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Scorpia heads for the hallway, turning off the lights and giving a farewell wave on the way out. “Sleep well, boss.”

When the door shuts behind her Catra flops facedown on the mattress, groaning in relief. Her nostrils flood with the safe, comforting scent of the most loyal friend she’s ever had, and within moments the tension in her muscles melts away. Tears leak from her eyes, wetting the pillow, but they’re not the tears she’s used to, born of frustration and rage and deep sorrow. These are tears of relief, tears of contentment, tears of joy. 

Tears of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am, as a matter of fact, capable of writing fluff. So there.
> 
> Fun fact: This chapter's alternate title was "Squad Goals".


	18. Popularity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back! Sorry for the delay, I was working on some other projects and real life has been mad busy in JMI land. But I have good news! Part of why this update took so long is because I've been working on several chapters at once while I kinda worked out the upcoming timeline. Chapter 19 is close to finished and should easily be up within a week. Chapter 20 is coming along decently too, so you can probably expect that fairly soon as well.
> 
> Anybody else scared and excited for season 4? Like I keep thinking Catra's gotten evil enough but ohhhh no they're really going there, aren't they? At least this one will be a full season so hopefully we'll get some kind of turn near the end... anyway, this is totally unrelated! Enjoy the chapter!
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for emotional child abuse.

Legs dangling from a tree branch, Adora mindlessly swings them back and forth, back and forth. Her eyes are on the frosty leaves but her mind is far away in the Fright Zone. More specifically, in her old bunk, with a warm cat girl sprawled atop her, head nestled in her chest. Catra snores sometimes, but she also purrs in her sleep if Adora finds just the right spots to scratch. Behind her ears, the base of her tail, the back of her head just above her neck. For someone so outwardly hostile, Catra sure loves affection. From Adora, anyway. Maybe from other people too, but she prefers not to think about that.

It’s hard, though. To focus on the good and not worry about the things she can’t control. Like who else could be cuddling Catra, and why she hasn’t shown up yet. It’s been four days and fourteen - no, fifteen hours since Adora freed her, but she’s seen neither hide nor hair of the Force Captain. Catra could be in trouble, unable to get to her. Or she could be laughing with her new friends at Adora’s naivety, how easily she got her to betray her allies.

Each passing hour eats at Adora’s gut, makes her hands fidget and thoughts race. The worst part, though, is how she can’t do anything about it. She is unwelcome in the Fright Zone, to say the least, so she can’t very well go and check on Catra. And she can’t go back to Bright Moon either, find reassurance in the arms of Glimmer and Bow. She chose this lonely existence. Isolated herself from everyone she cares about for the sake of doing the right thing.

Right about now, Adora thinks doing the right thing can get fucked. She may be the vessel of She-Ra, but Adora is only human. She aches with the need to be touched, to be held and heard and understood. Light Hope isn’t much good for any of that.

As far as sentient beings go, Light Hope has got to be the most insensitive one Adora has ever met. Not mean, exactly, just unaware. It’s not her fault, her creators couldn’t exactly program a soul into her, but it takes a certain level of cold cruelty to force someone to fight a simulation of the person they are in love with. And Adora couldn’t even fully explain why it upset her so much, not without getting another lecture about the danger of her attachments. Of course Light Hope knows how Adora feels about Catra, or felt prior to the brain scan, but there are the more recent developments she’s unaware of, and those make all the difference. Fighting her ex-best friend she happens to be in love with is bad enough. Fighting the girl she so recently kissed and cuddled and sacrificed her happiness for takes this shit to a whole nother level.

Admittedly, she knows she may be overreacting because of her particular sensitivity to this topic. Adora really, really doesn’t like other people telling her how she should feel about Catra. Glimmer’s rants, Light Hope’s lectures and damn simulations, and… and…

_“You know Catra doesn’t actually care about you,” Shadow Weaver warned condescendingly, looking down on Adora. “She’s latched onto you because you have power. She’s a leech. A parasite. And you’re too foolish and sentimental to pry her off.”_

_“That’s not true,” protested Adora. “She’s my best friend. She likes me for who I am.”_

_“Don’t be silly, Adora,” Shadow Weaver scolded her. “No one likes you for who you are, they like you for what you can give them. Power, safety, influence. Popularity isn’t always as it seems.” She chuckled quietly, almost under her breath. “Everyone sees that you’re special but you.”_

_Adora knew Shadow Weaver was trying to tell her something more, but her mind was stuck on one thought. Her lip quivered as she asked, “Do you like me, Shadow Weaver?”_

_Shadow Weaver rolled her eyes, Adora could hear it in her sigh and exasperated voice. “Sometimes, yes,” she said. “When you’re not being so thick and tiresome.”_

_Adora had to blink away, eyes burning and begging to form tears. A hand on her cheek brought her gaze back to Shadow Weaver. Fingertips brushing Adora’s hungry skin, she spoke with affection this time. “Whether I like you or not at any given moment is irrelevant. Our connection is deeper than that. You have a special place in my heart, Adora.”_

_Adora looked up at her with hopeful, eager eyes. “I do?”_

_“Oh come now, you know that,” Shadow Weaver scolded her again, but with a teasing warmth this time. Tucking some stray hairs behind Adora’s ear, she said, “None of those children understand you like I do. Don’t let them hold you back from the great things we are destined to do together.”_

A tear cuts a trail over Adora’s cheekbone, hot and wet and heavy. She lets it roll down her cheek and drip off her chin, not bothering to wipe her cheeks until more follow in its wake. Sniffling, she tries to blink away the sting in her eyes, the sorrow in her heart. Whether she’s grieving her maternal figure or what she did to her, she’s not sure.

What she is sure of, is that she’s terribly lonely.

Sighing away the pain, Adora closes her eyes and lets her imagination patch the invisible wound. The branches behind her rustle ever so slightly, like the movement of a squirrel or the wind. She doesn’t flinch, only smile when the branch bows a bit under a new weight. Her cheeks flush with the sensation of proximity, and a shudder runs down her spine when she hears and feels the hot whisper against her ear. “Hey, Adora…”

The actual sound of someone in the underbrush snaps Adora back to reality. In one fluid motion she draws her legs up into the foliage and pushes herself into a squat, balancing on the branch. Quietly drawing her sword, she steadies her nerves with calm breaths and peers down through the lower branches.

Whoever they are, they’re sure not trying to be stealthy. Frozen twigs snap underfoot, half-thawed grass rustling against their boots. The woods are starting to melt and regrow, barely, but sneaking around is still difficult. If the visitor was Catra she would still find a way - stealth is basically her greatest talent other than being a dick. Adora can’t help a touch of disappointment but hopes it’s a friend nonetheless. Though to be fair, those are in short supply right now.

“Adora?”

The familiar voice lights up Adora’s face with an ecstatic grin.

“Bow!” She clambers down the slippery branches and trunk with significantly less care than she should be taking. Broken bones are a small price to pay for company in her current situation. Dropping to the ground, she runs to her smiling friend and throws her arms around his shoulders. “Hey!”

Bow’s warm, strong arms cinch around Adora’s waist and she sighs, resting her chin on his shoulder. They linger in the embrace, and Adora savors every second of warmth, pressure, proximity.

“Been a while since you’ve seen another human?” he guesses.

Adora chuckles into his collarbone, giving one more squeeze before pulling back. Even now, she’s reluctant to let him go. Maybe she has learned her lesson, unfortunately too late.

“Light Hope’s a good teacher and all, but she’s not really friend material,” she admits.

Gesturing at the frozen forest, Bow says, “Don’t get me wrong, this is still a disaster, but on the bright side it made finding you much easier.” Adora’s lips fall into a frown and his quickly follow. “What?”

“That’ll make it easier for other people to find me too,” reasons Adora. “Bright Moon guards, for instance.”

His brow furrows in thought a moment before he shakes his head and concludes, “If they were gonna arrest you, they would’ve done it when you were there.”

Snorting bitterly, Adora mutters, “Why not wait until my guard is down? Seems to be Glimmer’s MO.”

Bow’s eyes flick away and a shockwave of regret makes Adora’s muscles tense, draining the blood from her bowing head. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” says Bow, squinting slightly at nothing in particular. His hands go to his hip pockets and Adora’s stomach drops and tumbles.

It’s not fine.

She always says the wrong thing. Of course Adora would find a way to alienate her most loyal friend. Hell, she’s done it before.

“Shit,” she mumbles, smacking herself in the forehead. “Really, I’m sorry. About everything. I didn’t mean to drag you into the middle of this.”

“I already am,” says Bow, lips twitching with a half-hearted smile. “Just kinda how it is.”

The warmth in his gaze is reassuring, soothing Adora’s frazzled nerves. The tension in her body melts away, immediately replaced by cloying awkwardness that makes her want to look literally anywhere else than into his kind eyes. Glancing at the overcast sky, she suggests, “Let’s get inside. Looks like it’s gonna rain.”

Bow hesitates, eyes flicking past her nervously. “Uhhh…”

“What?”

His voice cracks slightly as he reminds her, “Last time I went in there I got attacked by giant robot spiders.”

“Yeah, well, it’s different now,” blusters Adora. “I live there, the place knows me. I can call them off.”

“...Okay.”

Looping her arm through his, Adora tugs him along towards the Beacon. “Just don’t talk or touch anything until we get to the atrium, then I’ll talk to Light Hope.”

Though clearly uncertain, Bow follows Adora across the clearing, then down the ramp when it opens in her presence. Despite his misgivings, he puts his trust in her. After everything, that means a lot.

If Adora was any good at putting feelings into words, she might try to say as much. But she isn’t, so she says nothing until they’re clear of the entrance hallway.

“Light Hope?” she calls as they enter the cavernous atrium.

The holographic host flickers into existence in front of her. “Adora, do you already want to-” Light Hope stops abruptly, eyes locked on Bow. Her tone is suddenly harsh as she says, “I detect an unauthorized presence. What is the meaning of this, Adora?”

Leaning in a little, Bow murmurs in Adora’s ear. “I told you…”

Lightly elbowing him in the ribs, Adora smiles up at her teacher and broaches, “Light Hope, you know Bow. You’ve seen him in my memories, and he came here before with Swift Wind, to save me.”

“You did not need saving,” counters Light Hope. “You were perfectly-”

“-useless,” Adora finishes for her. “They needed me in Bright Moon.” Seeing Light Hope’s features hardening even more, she tosses a hand in the air and argues, “Besides, they didn’t know I was safe. Your elementals attacked them.”

“Because they are programmed to attack unauthorized beings,” she replies flatly.

Well, this tactic clearly isn’t working. Consciously relaxing her stance, Adora places a hand on Bow’s shoulder and speaks calmly, reassuringly. She hopes.

“Look, Bow is my… my ally,” she says, knowing better than to drop the F bomb in front of Light Hope. “He’s an ally of She-Ra. I promise, he won’t cause any trouble.”

Bow waves shyly as Light Hope appraises him with narrowed eyes. Finally she relents, “As you wish. I will permit the presence of this ‘Bow’ you speak of. But if he tampers with anything-”

“He’ll be spider food,” says Adora. “We know.”

“Thanks, Light Hope!” Bow calls out, waving once again.

“You are welcome, young man,” replies Light Hope, something like a smile crossing her face. Holding his gaze, she warns him, “Do not make me regret this allowance.”

Adora drags him away in the midst of his promises to be good, towing him toward one of the many hallways. It’s a short walk to the room Light Hope prepared for her when she moved in.

As the door slides shut behind them, Bow stares incredulously at the bare bones setup. In addition to the cot-size bed, there’s only a small dresser and a table with a single chair. Why would Adora need a second chair, after all? She’s not supposed to have friends.

Smirking over his shoulder as he saunters into the room, Bow asks, “Uh, does Light Hope know _anything_ about princesses?”

“Hey, you know I’m not like a regular princess,” Adora reminds him. This lack of luxury doesn’t bother her. In fact, it’s comforting. It’s like home.

Well, one of her past homes.

Wandering over to the bed, Bow sits down and immediately pokes the mattress, a scandalized look on his face. “Adora, this is like a slab of rock. How do you sleep on this thing?”

“It’s what I’m used to,” she says blandly.

Bow’s expression melts into sheepishness, his eyes falling to the bed. Smiling ironically, he chuckles, “Sorry, I really shouldn’t mock your culture, should I?”

Adora can’t tell if he’s making a joke or being serious. Or both. Ugh.

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” she snorts. Joining him on the bed, she says, “Look, it’s not something I’m proud of, but where I grew up is part of who I am.”

A playful grin curls Bow’s lips. “So you can take the girl out of the Horde, but not the Horde out of the girl?”

Adora grunts in amusement. “Something like that.”

She fills him in on life in the Crystal Castle, including some of her training mishaps. Not the simulation of Catra, that’s a little too raw, but there was one where a spider picked her up by the ankle and froze, leaving her dangling there for a couple minutes while Light Hope and the rest of the system rebooted. Bow repays her with tales from Bright Moon, like Swift Wind demanding a chair for their next meeting and an ice-related prank Mermista and Frosta played on Perfuma and Glimmer.

At the mention of one of her (presumably) ex best-friends, Adora’s face falls. They’ve been carefully dancing around any heavy topics, but the tension physically pains her. Fingers winding in her sleeve cuff, she takes a deep breath and asks, “How is Glimmer, anyway?”

“She’s fine,” Bow answers automatically.

Adora tips her head, skewering him with her eyes. “Bullshit.” He opens his mouth but she cuts him off. “I’m asking ‘cause I wanna know, not ‘cause I wanna feel better.”

Bow shifts, frowning slightly as his eyes go distant. “She’s… she’s hurt.”

Adora’s mouth twitches. “Because I let Catra go?”

Drawing out a long hum, Bow squirms. “I think it’s more that she thinks you care more about Catra than her.” He grimaces apologetically, but Adora can’t help but react.

“That’s not fair,” she protests. “That’s not why I did any of it. It had nothing to do with Glimmer.”

“Exactly,” Bow says evenly. “You cared so much about freeing Catra that she thinks you didn’t even think about how it would make her feel.”

“I did, actually,” snaps Adora. “But it wasn’t about how it would make her feel. I was doing what I thought was right.”

Her proud posture deflates as the words sink in. A self-deprecating snort bursts from her lips. “That seems to be an ongoing theme with me,” she mumbles.

Bow squeezes her knee, and she unconsciously covers his hand with hers. “What can I do to make it right?” she asks, clinging desperately to his fingers. “I hate this so much, but I’m not gonna put Catra back in prison. I can’t.”

Shaking his head with a sigh, Bow admits, “I’m not sure, Adora. Find some way to show her she matters to you, I guess.”

Adora’s forehead scrunches up as she considers this. Glimmer and Catra do have very similar personalities, and when she did that for Catra it seemed to fix things a bit. At the time, at least.

Catra’s probably just busy, right? Busy terrorizing the planet, formulating plans to destroy her and all the other princesses…

A beeping sound cuts through Adora’s thoughts, quickly followed by Bow’s voice. “Speak of the devil…”

Her face and voice go hard. “What?”

“Sorry, poor choice of words.” Bow chuckles sheepishly. “My tracker pad’s detecting a Horde presence in the woods,” he explains, whipping the gadget out of his belt.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Hopping off the bed, Adora draws her sword and transforms. “Let’s go kick some Horde butt!”

They charge out of the ruins and into the frozen forest, following the tech signal. Adora’s heart pounds as they run, harder than the situation calls for. Her hands sweat, making the sword slip in her grip.

Excitement, anger, and disappointment clash in Adora’s gut when they encounter a group of three Horde bots barrelling through the underbrush. Only bots. They make quick work of them, between trick arrows and a magic sword. In mere minutes Adora is sheathing her weapon, frowning at the defeated machines.

“Guess that grace period is over,” she remarks as Bow steps up beside her. She tips her head down to meet his gaze. “You think there’ll be more?”

“Oh, definitely. But not for a few hours, at least.” The assuredness in Bow’s tone lifts Adora’s eyebrows, and he explains, “This started yesterday morning. They just keep sending waves of bots running through the woods. We were planning to discuss sending the other princesses home yesterday, but that’s gonna have to wait.”

Adora hums. “I remember. That’s bad timing.”

“Yeah, awfully convenient,” Bow frowns. “Almost like they knew what we were talking about.”

Mouth dropping open, Adora raises her hands in protest. “Don’t look at me!”

“Oh- no, crap, I didn’t mean it like that!” he backpedals quickly. “I know you’re not a traitor. I meant I wonder if Entrapta or someone else found a way to spy on us.”

“Or maybe it’s just a coincidence,” muses Adora.

“Maybe,” he says, but he sounds far from convinced.

“They causing a lot of trouble?”

“Kind of? They’re not exactly attacking the woods but they’re trampling everything and causing more damage.” He sighs, taking in the destruction around them. “How are they ever supposed to regrow like this?”

Adora frowns. “Have any bots made it to Bright Moon yet?”

“No, we’ve been holding them off pretty easy. They’re not even sending that many, I don’t think they’re trying to mount an attack. Maybe they’re just scouts?”

“Or a distraction tactic,” grumbles Adora. “Catra loves those.”

Bow squints. “You think she’s behind this?”

“No fucking clue,” Adora says shortly, scowling at the ground.

Adora’s sulking is rudely interrupted by the clanking of mechanical limbs in the distance. Between them and Bright Moon. Her head snaps up. “Did we miss one?”

Bow’s already pulling out his tracker pad. His face falls. “Crap, they must’ve split up on our way here.” Tucking it back in his belt, he jerks his head urgently towards Bright Moon. “Come on, we gotta hurry!”

As they take off in pursuit, Adora reasons, “At least if it’s just bots the protection spell will stop them before they can do any damage, right?”

“Unless they’ve developed a long range canon or something,” Bow grunts through hard puffs of breath. “Who knows what Entrapta’s gotten up to?”

Adora squints, examining his downcast features. She’s sure she heard a note of bitterness in his voice, similar to when she was talking about Catra. Maybe that shouldn’t be a surprise. Adora wasn’t really around to see Bow process the news of Entrapta’s betrayal, but she was his idol. It must have hurt.

“If they brought tanks, we’re screwed,” he adds, pulling Adora from her thoughts.

“No, that definitely sounded like bots,” she assures him. “Trust me, I’d know.”

They catch up to the machines in a small clearing near the edge of the forest. There’s only two so they wordlessly split up, each taking one.

“Hey!” Adora shouts. As the bot slows and turns to take her on, Adora tries transforming her sword into a lasso, hoping to rope its legs out from under it. Unfortunately the damn thing turns into a mug, leaving her gaping at the useless implement. With the bot now focused on her, she improvises and hurls it at her enemy.

When the bot rears back in shock, she slides under it, scooping up the mug on the way. While it’s turning again, trying to locate her, she reverts her weapon back to a sword and takes a swipe at the nearest leg. The bot emits a mechanical squeal and shoots a laser beam that Adora deftly blocks with her sword. It tries to stomp on her with the damaged limb, but ends up listing forward, allowing Adora to jump up with She-Ra strength and cling to its spherical body. Raising her arm with a battle cry, she smashes the bot with the butt end of her sword, leaving a huge dent in the metal casing.

The robot stumbles, making an awful whirring sound before suddenly tipping backward, sending Adora tumbling off with a yelp of surprise. Her back hits the ground with a heavy thud, knocking most of the air out of her lungs. What’s left escapes in a weary groan. She feels her magical energy ebb, her hold on She-Ra slipping, but a quick glance up assures her that the bot is even woozier. It flicks its legs at odd intervals, continuing its disjointed whirring noises as it tries to get its bearings or right itself. It’s essentially toast.

Sighing with relief, Adora allows herself to detransform. Her eyes blink themselves back into focus, and she’s just starting to think maybe she can pick herself back up when a sharp voice cuts through her muddled thoughts.

“Bow, there you are!”

Adora’s heart jumps, her mouth going dry. That voice. Longing and dread course through her veins, pleasant memories comforting and tormenting her all at once.

“Why did you take your tracker pad?” Glimmer’s tone has gone from relieved to scolding. Adora can hear her usual aggressive gait as she stomps closer. “That’s our early warning system, we barely saw the bots coming in time!”

“I was using it to track First One’s tech.”

Adora rolls over with a groan, pushing herself to her hands and knees as the conversation continues.

“What tech?”

“The, um…” Bow sounds nervous. “The Sword of Protection.”

“You didn’t!”

Glimmer’s tone is full of shock and disbelief, so Adora decides to prove Bow’s story. Giving her head one last shake, she gets to her feet and rounds the fallen bot, stepping out into the open. Glimmer’s eyes bulge as they settle on her, then narrow. Adora’s attempt at a casual shrug does not match her boastful grin.

“What?” she gloats, nodding backwards at the deformed bot. “You didn’t think Bow did that all by himself, did you?” Quickly glancing at Bow, she adds, “No offense.”

“None taken,” he replies with a hand wave. “I’m a sniper, not a brawler.”

Glimmer’s arms cross over her chest. “Hello, She-Ra.”

The words are like a blast of ice water to the face. Adora would know. The cold showers back at the Horde were always a shock even when you were expecting it. And she was expecting a frosty reception. But ‘She-Ra’? Really?

Anger and anguish battle in Adora’s gut, and in her face. Fighting to keep her expression neutral, she nods respectfully. “Princess Glimmer.” She bends in a formal bow for good measure. Two can play that game.

Glimmer’s eyes roll and flick to Bow. “We’ve been holding off the bots just fine. We didn’t need to involve her.”

Bow definitely didn’t come to her for that reason, but Adora doesn’t want to cause any more drama for them. Before he can answer, she deflects, “I’m always happy to help. I told you.”

“I think you’ve helped enough,” Glimmer retorts hotly. Rather than making Adora’s heart sink, the flash of emotion gives her a glimmer of hope. Anger is better than indifferent hostility, she knows that from her experiences with Catra. Anger means she still has a place in Glimmer’s heart, that she still means something to her.

“Adora!” calls an excited voice from above.

A huge grin bursts onto Adora’s face as she looks up. Swift Wind waves one of his hooves and swoops down from the sky, carrying Perfuma, Mermista and Frosta on his back. Netossa and Spinneralla must be back guarding the castle, they seem to do that a lot.

“Hey, stranger!” he greets her as he touches down. Trotting over, he nuzzles her face with his snout, and she eagerly pets his fiery mane as the princesses dismount. “How’s training going? Are your stats still going up?”

“Duh,” brags Adora. “I’m gonna be the best She-Ra Etheria has ever seen.”

“Oh, good, a more powerful wild card,” Mermista deadpans, arms crossing nonchalantly. “Just what we need.”

“A more powerful ally, you mean,” stresses Adora, narrowing her eyes. Mermista only raises an eyebrow. Gesturing to the princess at Mermista’s side, Adora insists, “Glimmer’s the one who wanted me to still come to the Alliance meetings.”

All eyes flick to Glimmer and she shrugs. “It’s true. As long as a certain someone is not involved, we can trust She-Ra to fight for us. If we need her.”

“Sure,” drawls Mermista, “but isn’t that certain someone the one who attacked all our kingdoms?”

“Not mine,” Perfuma pipes up from behind her.

Smirking slyly, Mermista hides her hint of a smile by looking away. “All the important ones, then.” 

“Hey!” snaps Perfuma.

“You can say her name, okay?” Adora interjects, dragging fingers through her hair in frustration. “Jeez. And I will fight Catra if it comes down to it, I said that in my letter to your mom,” she adds, catching Glimmer’s eye.

“Yeah, I know,” Glimmer says flatly. “You were obviously really upset to be letting her down.” She sounds annoyed, or maybe hurt? Adora has no time to reflect on why, because Swift Wind is stepping between them.

“Okay, look, we’ve established we’re all on the same side, okay?” he says, pointedly looking from one princess to the other. “Fighting amongst ourselves solves nothing.” Tipping his head back, he rests a hoof proudly on his chest. “It’s like Queen Angella said: ‘disunity among the Alliance can only lead to disaster.’”

No one dares argue, and Adora can’t help a smug little smile. Peeking around her flamboyant steed, she cracks, “Maybe you guys should get him that chair.”

Bow snorts and Glimmer throws him a look. She’s just turning that glare on Adora when her eyes suddenly bulge with panic. “Adora!”

Adora hears a mechanical creak behind her just as Glimmer’s body hits her out of nowhere. A second later she’s on the ground, watching the robotic leg that was hanging above her come crashing down from ten feet away. While she’s hopping up and drawing her sword to put the bot out of its misery, an arrow goes flying into its laser eye. It fully collapses, whirring sounds fading to nothing.

“You guys okay?” asks Bow, hustling to her side.

“Yeah, thanks.” Looking down and giving her savior a weak smile, Adora extends a hand to help her up. “Thanks, Glim.”

Glimmer squints at Adora’s hand but doesn’t take it, teleporting herself up to land on her feet. Eyes still narrowed, she peers up at Adora and remarks, “You’re a princess. We watch each other’s backs.”

Adora’s arm falls limply to her side. She’s not always the greatest at deciphering hidden meanings, but she hears the words under this seemingly inspirational statement loud and clear. _I’d save any of our allies. Don’t think you’re special._ Her eyes prickle and Glimmer looks away with a pained expression.

“If that’s it for this wave, we might as well head back,” declares Glimmer, her voice conspicuously strained. Side eyeing her best friend, she asks, “You coming, Bow?”

Hesitating to follow Glimmer as she joins the others, Bow glances back at Adora. She pastes on a brave smile and gives him a nod of reassurance. “It’s okay. I’m tired.”

“You’re all alone,” he says quietly, concern clouding his features.

“I chose that,” states Adora. Pulling him into a hug, she closes her eyes and relishes the contact for just a couple seconds. She’d trap him for longer if she didn’t know it would piss Glimmer off and he’d have to deal with the consequences. He’s already in enough shit for sneaking off to visit her. Letting go, she claps a hand on his non-armored shoulder and gives one final squeeze. “It was good to see you.”

“You too,” he replies, throat bobbing slightly.

Turning away from him before her stinging eyes shed tears, Adora calls out to the group, “Let me know if you need my help, with any of the attacks. No point doing all that training if I don’t put it to use.”

“Sure, Adora,” Glimmer says coolly as Bow makes his way over. “We’ll let you know.”

While the princesses minus Glimmer climb up onto his back, Swift Wind tosses his mane and calls out, “Bye, Adora! Call if you need me, okay?”

“Nah, I should be good,” Adora answers, scrunching up her face playfully. “Enjoy your non-frozen apples, Swiftie.”

“Yes, ma’am!” With that he gallops up some speed and takes off, soaring over the treetops back inside the kingdom.

Adora’s eyes fall from the sky just in time to see Bow watching her with concern over his shoulder before Glimmer throws her arms around him. She delays just long enough to give Adora a pointed look before teleporting them both away.

As the pink poof disappears in Glimmer’s wake, Adora finally releases the strangled sound caught in her throat. She gasps, bending over to rest her hands on her knees as her chest tightens painfully. She manages a few wheezes before sobs begin to catch in her throat, making her choke on her tears. They flow freely down her cheeks, streaming from her chin and splashing on the frosty earth.

Adora’s head begins to spin, churning with her fears and anxiety, fueled by haunting words.

 _“The princesses don’t care about you.”_ The tingle of shadowy fingers trailing along her cheekbone makes Adora shudder even in the present. _“They want to use you for your strength.”_

…She was right.

Adora laughs. What begins as a chuckle crescendos into a raucous laugh that has her tipping forward and landing on her hands and knees. She’s heaving again, cackling, unable to catch her breath. Shadow Weaver was manipulative. Shadow Weaver was evil. And Shadow Weaver was right.

They really don’t care about her. They only care about She-Ra.

_“No one likes you for who you are, they like you for what you can give them.”_

Now they don’t even need She-Ra, and they definitely don’t need Adora. Glimmer only warmed up to Adora because she was useful, and now that her loyalty’s been called into question she’s been cast aside. Glimmer doesn’t need her anymore. Doesn’t want her anymore.

_“No one likes you for who you are.”_

Sobs and guffaws mingle in Adora’s staccato breaths until a loud wail breaks through, voicing her torment for the whole forest to hear. She punches the ground, screaming obscenities until her knuckles throb and her throat burns and swells. Able only to whimper, she buries her face in her hands, letting tears drip between her bleeding knuckles.

Finally her eyes run dry and she sniffles, blinking away the tears weighing down her lashes. Yearning eyes peer up at the spires of Castle Brightmoon, visible above the treeline from this close. From this far away.

_“No one likes you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adora x Therapy y’all
> 
> Kudos to any of my fellow Millennials who had a "I'm a cool princess!" moment :D


	19. Bargaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how's Catra doing? Catra is... being Catra.
> 
> Be warned, there are some pretty heavy themes in this chapter regarding mental health, maladaptive coping mechanisms, grief and mourning, and child abuse (on brand tbh). So don't go into this expecting to find happiness, go into this expecting to find catharsis.
> 
> The flashbacks in this chapter aren't immersive or long, they're more referential to scenes already described/inferred. If you get lost, in particular they call back to the flashback in chapter 15 and another incident first mentioned in chapter 1 (and several times since). But you don’t necessarily need to remember that stuff well to understand what’s going on in Catra’s head, that's more just a note for if you get confused because it's been a while since you've read the referenced chapters and you want to find those scenes.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for violent physical and emotional child abuse, verbal abuse, self-harm, and suicidal ideation.

Feet skuffing the metal floor, Catra keeps her head down as she skulks through the hall housing the Force Captain barracks. It’s not that she’s not allowed here; non-officers are permitted in this area if invited by a Force Captain, and she kind of has a permanent invitation. But Catra doesn’t like reminders of what she’s lost.

It’s why being around Adora hurts so much. Maybe things are finally starting to look up for them, but that doesn’t change what Catra lost when Adora left. All the heartache she suffered. And maybe she still has an in with Scorpia, but that doesn’t change how she was stripped of her own power. How she was demoted and disgraced.

Yet as much as she may hate them, some part of Catra clings to these reminders of what she’s lost. Some part of her cherishes the pain, thrives on it, refuses to let it go. It’s why she cried herself to sleep for weeks with thoughts of Adora. It’s why her yearning eyes can’t help looking up as she passes the door to her old room.

Scowling down into her collar, Catra strides the last few steps to Scorpia’s door and raps on it insistently, wanting to escape the hallway before the pain has a chance to sink in and further sour her mood. She could just barge in like Scorpia had a habit of doing to her, but she can’t really expect Scorpia to respect her personal space if she doesn’t show her what that looks like.

“Come in!” Scorpia calls from the other side, her tone unabashedly surprised and hopeful. She doesn’t even try to hide it. Catra can’t help snorting in disgust, in envy. Who the hell is raised to think such displays of vulnerability are acceptable? Fucking princesses, that’s who.

Pinching her brow, Catra sighs out her aggression before pushing the button to open the door. She came here to enjoy her friend’s company, and she can’t if she keeps thinking like this. She forces the glower off her face but can’t manage anything more than a neutral expression as Scorpia’s door splits and slides into the wall.

“Oh, hey Wildcat,” Scorpia greets her, suddenly sitting up from her lounging position on her bed. Catra’s eyes narrow quizzically at the lingering surprise in her tone. Who else would show up here? It’s not like Entrapta ever leaves her lab, and Scorpia doesn’t have any other friends. Catra doesn’t have much time to consider this, though, because Scorpia’s already asking, “To what do I owe the honor?”

“You said I was welcome anytime,” Catra reminds her, weight rocking back on her heels.

“I know, it was a joke,” Scorpia assures her, flashing a grin. “Come on,” she urges, patting the bed. “How’ve you been?”

Feeling her lips turn up slightly, Catra twists them into a smirk. “You mean since yesterday?”

“A lot can happen in a day,” says Scorpia.

Catra’s day in Bright Moon comes to mind, and she snorts under her breath. “Very true,” she admits. “I’m fine. It was just more training, you know.”

Scorpia nods at her table as Catra approaches, and Catra pushes the power button on the sound blocker box before joining her on the bed. Scorpia asks, “They still treating you okay in the barracks?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Catra assures her. “Lonnie’s watching my back and I have a bit of a reputation to begin with. People aren’t keen on fucking with someone with claws and anger management problems.” Not anymore, anyway. Now that Shadow Weaver’s no longer around to police her ‘animalistic’ behaviors, Catra’s not afraid to growl and bare her claws anymore. That sure keeps the idiot humans at bay.

Tipping her head, Scorpia asks, “You thought at all about what I said the other day?”

Constantly. For three days since Scorpia made the offer, the idea of defecting together has been dominating Catra’s thoughts. The possibilities excite her. The possibilities frighten her.

Catra shrugs. “A bit, yeah.”

“Just a bit?”

Tail twitching, Catra averts her eyes. “Look, if I’m slowing down your plan…” Her ears droop against her will. “I know you guys must be itching to leave.”

_Please don’t leave._

_Please._

Scorpia decisively shakes her head. “Catra, you’re a big part of why I want to leave. Leaving without you wouldn’t make me happier. Entrapta I think is fine for now. Well,” Scorpia makes air quotes with her pincers, “‘fine.’ She’s working overtime trying to hack the mainframes for information now, squirreling away tech she wants to take. She probably doesn’t mind the extra time.”

Catra squints. “How does Entrapta work overtime? Did she ever stop in the first place?”

“She stops to sleep, sometimes. But now she’s using some kind of drug to keep herself awake.” Scorpia frowns. “It’s actually freaking me out a little.”

Well, that explains a lot. Catra just came from the lab, having checked there first under the assumption Scorpia would be there, as usual. Instead she found Entrapta whizzing around on her rolling chair even faster than normal, blabbing about stuff Catra didn’t understand. Despite repeated attempts to get her attention, she barely acknowledged Catra, too busy rattling off numbers and shrieking about the data while a haggard Emily looked on and beeped urgently at Catra to intervene. Catra finally resorted to jamming her foot against the chair to stop Entrapta’s momentum before leaning in close and asking where Scorpia was with loud, slow, emphatic syllables.

“Try stinging her with your tail?” suggests Catra.

“I- what?” Scorpia balks, eyebrows practically at her hairline. “Catra!”

“Well, it would put her to sleep.”

“I can’t attack my girlfriend like that,” Scorpia scolds her. Eyes flitting away, she mutters, “Or whatever she is.”

Catra frowns. “What’s up, Scorp?”

Jaw twitching, Scorpia sighs. “I wish I didn’t have to sting her to get her to stop. Like, I wish she would just hang out with me and stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I like her. A lot. I just wish I could have more of her.”

“Hasn’t she always been like this?” Catra points out.

“Yeah, but it’s been worse since we started talking about leaving.”

Teeth catching her lip, Catra frowns down at her tapping foot. “Maybe you should just tell her not to worry about it. Calm her down.”

Scorpia sounds surprised and yet not surprised at all when she asks, “Decided you want to stay?”

Catra’s eyes fall closed with a sigh.

‘Want’ has nothing to do with it.

It’s not that Catra has never wanted to leave the Horde. There were many, many times she fantasized about running away and never looking back. But she couldn’t leave Adora behind. Not just because Adora was her best friend and lifeline, but because she didn’t want to leave Adora alone in the Fright Zone, being raised by Shadow Weaver of all people. She looked out for Adora, and Adora looked out for her, that was their promise. And Adora never would have left, she’d always swallowed the Horde’s propaganda by the bucketful. So Catra stayed.

The older Catra got, the rarer those thoughts became. Not because her torment at the hands of Shadow Weaver lessened - quite the opposite, in fact - but because she had too much pride to entertain them for long. Deserters were weak, cowardly people, and Catra already had enough people calling her weak and cowardly. She’d show them. She was stronger than any of them, she had to be after all she’d been through. In the back of her mind she always knew it wasn’t the best reason to stay, that she wasn’t happy, but the closest thing she had to happiness resided in the Fright Zone. If her pride kept her in the same place as Adora, she was okay with it.

...Funny how that worked out.

Now that Catra is stuck in this dilemma, between sacrificing her pride or sacrificing her heart, she wishes she could’ve gone out on top. Wishes she’d made second-in-command then happily fucked off to start her own faction. Then it would have looked like a bold choice instead of running away with her tail between her legs. But would she have left if she hadn’t lost everything?

Honestly, probably not.

“Look, I know everyone thinks I’m lazy and shit, but I’m no quitter,” declares Catra, hands furling into fists. “I was good at my job and I know I can get it back if I work hard enough. There must be something I can do.” Hordak’s ultimatum pops into her head and she quickly clarifies, “Other than killing Adora.”

Peering at the fading purple remnants of Catra’s black eye, Scorpia cautions, “I dunno, Catra. Looks like he was pretty serious.”

“Hordak has a temper,” says Catra, dismissing this with a wave. “I can convince him. I just need something good.” When Scorpia gives her a doubtful look she snaps, “What? You expect me to just give up on my dreams?”

“Giving up isn’t the same thing as cutting your losses,” says Scorpia. “There’s nothing wrong with surrendering a battle you know you can’t win. You save yourself effort and resources. Better than losing everything.”

“What do I have left to lose?” scoffs Catra.

“Other than me and Entrapta?” snarks Scorpia, one eyebrow high on her forehead. She pretends to mull this over before coming back with, “Hmm, your life, maybe?”

Catra snorts, glancing away. “Yeah, I don’t really care about that.”

“Well you should,” insists Scorpia. The harshness in her face fades slightly as she studies Catra. “Is that really your dream?”

“What?”

“Ruling the world, ruling the Horde, whatever,” says Scorpia. She appears genuinely curious, and maybe a bit concerned. “Is that all you care about?”

“I mean, no, but…” Catra drags her fingers through her hair, trying to piece together a coherent argument.

_“You’re nothing without the Horde, without me.”_

Catra’s eyes squeeze shut with effort to stay in this moment, not sink into the haunting memories. And yet, darkness tempts her to wallow in the murky depths, to revel in her own misery. Why bother fighting it? Why not surrender this battle she can't win? Since her nightmare after Hordak attacked her, that awful day has been playing on repeat in her head. Nausea, and hopelessness, and-

_Pain. So much pain. Magic squeezing her ribs so tight she couldn’t breathe, words so scathing tears streamed down her face, blows so vicious her bruises lasted weeks._

_Catra gritted her teeth, bit down on her tongue, determined not to beg for mercy. She’d committed to suffering in silence and she sure as shit wasn’t going to give in and let Shadow Weaver see her weakness. The tears were bad enough, but she could control her mouth. Maybe not her screams, but her words._

_Shadow Weaver would not break her._

“Look, if I leave now, everything I did will be for nothing.” Catra’s voice comes out even lower than usual, barely getting by the lump in her throat. “Everything I suffered will be for nothing.”

“You need a way to make it better, somehow,” Scorpia rephrases, nodding with understanding. “Make something of it.”

Catra’s eyes burn and blur as she holds her friend’s gaze. “How do I do that?” she asks genuinely, desperation leaking into her voice despite her best efforts.

Mouth twitching, Scorpia gives a resigned, wistful sigh. “I dunno, Wildcat. You might just have to make your peace with it.”

“How could I possibly make peace with something like that?” Suddenly unable to sit still, Catra hops to her feet and begins to pace, fingers winding in her hair, tugging at her scalp. “Shadow Weaver is dead and I’ll never…” She swallows hard, barely gets out in a whisper, “Nothing I do could ever bring her back or make this right.”

When Catra looks up, she finds Scorpia raising a pointed eyebrow. Her own words hit her like one of She-Ra’s punches, leaving her shaken and reeling, a sharp pain tearing through her chest. “Fuck,” she whispers. Emotion surges within her and she smacks her own forehead. “Fuck!”

“Careful!” Scorpia warns her. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Catra barely hears her, too occupied digging her claws into her forearm. Her throaty growl gives way to a sigh of relief as the sweet pain smothers all her thoughts and emotions. Next thing she knows her hands are being ripped apart, wrists gripped tightly in a pair of pincers as Scorpia wraps her up in a firm hug from behind.

Claws flexing, Catra snarls, “Let me go!”

“No,” Scorpia says firmly.

Thrashing in her grip, Catra hisses and growls like the wild beast Shadow Weaver always told her she was. “Scorpia, I swear to Hordak-”

“Please! You need to stop hurting yourself!” The pain in Scorpia’s voice drains the fight out of Catra. She goes still, exhaling heavily as her eyes fall shut. “That’s it, just calm down, okay? We can work this out.”

Catra is not calm. Catra is resigned. Catra stares blankly at the wall in front of her. “There’s nothing to work out. It’s over.”

“Look, you’re right, you can’t bring her back. You can’t change the past,” Scorpia says into her shoulder. “That’s why you need to make peace with it. If you don’t, it’ll eat you up for the rest of your life.”

With her lungs still compressed, Catra’s ironic chuckle comes out a little bit strangled and insane. Scorpia loosens her grip slightly and Catra scowls at her over her shoulder. “Let me guess, I need to ‘let go’?” she snarks. Tongue tucking under her lip, she scoffs and shakes her head. “You don’t understand.”

Several seconds pass before Scorpia admits, “You’re right. I wish I could.” She releases Catra, watching sadly as her captive steps back a safe distance and crosses her arms. “I hate seeing you like this, Catra. I just want you to be happy.”

“I don’t get to be happy,” spits Catra. “You ever had a bad day, Scorpia? Well, I’ve had a bad life. If I want something, it’s taken from me. If I win a fight, I lose the war.”

“Don’t you want to change that?” asks Scorpia, her eyes big and soft and stupid. So stupid. Just like Adora.

“I told you, I won’t be happy if I run away like some weakling,” Catra reiterates impatiently. “I’d just prove all of them right.” Her eyes sting and she has to look away, blinking hard. Shifting her aching jaw, she quietly declares, “The only things that could make me happy are things that will never happen.”

“Oh, Catra,” sighs Scorpia. She waits until Catra makes eye contact again before saying, “I’m sorry that’s how your life’s made you feel.”

Catra cocks an eyebrow. “But?”

“But nothing,” says Scorpia, quiet and sincere. “I’m just sorry.”

Catra’s jaw shifts again and she sniffles, quickly wiping under her nose as she brushes by Scorpia. “I should get back to the barracks,” she says on her way by. Glancing over her shoulder at the door, she adds, “Night, Scorpia.”

***

Catra doesn’t go back to the barracks. Catra climbs up to the top of the crane and cries.

Pulling her legs tight to her chest, she rests her head on her knees. Hot tears drip from her cheeks and soak into her leggings as she shudders with low, mournful sobs.

_“You pathetic creature.”_

The voice casts a chill over Catra and makes her muscles go rigid, but the tears continue to flow.

_“Stop your snivelling this instant.” The reprimands only made Catra’s whimpers devolve into choked sobs. Shadow Weaver sighed in exasperation before saying with finality, “I’ve had enough of this.” There was a loud crack, a sharp blow on Catra’s raw skin, a flash of pain that made her cry out. “You will learn to control yourself.” Another blow, another howl. “We are not leaving until you do.”_

“No, no no no!” Catra yells aloud, drowning out the voice in her head, clawing her bleeding arm again to pull herself from the memory. The last time she ever cried in front of Shadow Weaver. That’s one she can’t see. Not right now.

_“You need to kill your weakness, soldier.”_

“No!” Catra jumps to her feet and begins pacing, covering her ears and humming nonsense.

_“This is for your own good.”_

“Shut up! Leave me alone!” she screams. “Leave me the fuck alone!” Anyone who hears her will think she’s gone crazy. Has she gone crazy?

Catra roars and boots a loose piece of pipe off the crane, sending it careening to the ground below. It lands with an unsatisfying clatter and she smacks her face with both hands, claws digging into her scalp. She roars again into her palms, but the pain swelling in her chest only grows. It takes no pity on her. Doesn’t give her a moment of peace.

“Why did you hurt me like this?” she shouts into the void. “What did I do to deserve it? Why couldn’t you have just-” Cut off by her own sobbing, she falls to her knees. “Why couldn’t you have just loved me? It couldn’t have been that hard.” Her voice breaks, making her sound every bit the trembling child she feels. “Was I really that bad?” she squeaks. “I wanted to be good, I did. I’m sorry, I tried… I tried.”

Merciless as ever, the haunting voice swirls in Catra’s head, mocking her relentlessly.

_“Catra has been nothing but a disappointment to me.”_

_“I should have drowned you in a bucket when you were a kitten.”_

_“You’re not good enough for her. You’ll only drag her down, like you’ve been doing your whole sorry life. You’ll disappoint her. That’s all you’re good for.”_

_“You’ve made a grave mistake, my lord. Soon you will see that.”_

_"You’re anything but a success story, Catra. You’re the weakest cadet I’ve ever raised.”_

Catra tips her head back and screams her anguish at the sky.

“Why did you do this to me?” she yells, fists clenching. Her throat aches, voice cracking with tears. “All I ever wanted was for you to be proud of me.”

Proud. Catra can almost hear Shadow Weaver’s laugh, mocking her from beyond the grave. How could anyone look at her and be proud? She’s weak. A snivelling disgrace. No wonder Hordak doesn’t want her either. All she ever does is make a fool of herself.

Wrapping her arms around her ribcage, Catra begins to rock slightly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I tried,” she whispers hoarsely. “I really tried.”

Trying accomplishes nothing. Catra figured that out years ago, hence all the faux laziness. Trying only made everything hurt, because she was never rewarded. Still, she never really stopped, only pretended to in the name of sparing her pride. Was she a glutton for punishment, or just stubborn? Either way she was foolish, playing a losing game over and over again when it was rigged from the start.

Catra was never meant to succeed. She was always going to end up here. A failure. A disgrace. She can’t help wondering, though… what could she have been if she’d been supported? If she’d been loved? She could have made something of herself. She had potential, but Shadow Weaver refused to acknowledge or nurture it. If only she'd been something more... a better soldier, magical, human...

Shaking her head, Catra blinks away her tears. There's no use thinking about these things. She can’t ever go back and fix this. She’ll be broken like this forever. Shadow Weaver can never give her what she needs to heal.

This thought hits Catra much the same way it did in Scorpia's room, drowning her in a new wave of grief. She clutches her aching chest as another round of sobs wracks her body. Tipping forward, she catches herself with one hand and looks out past it, at the edge of the crane. At the void beyond. Dark thoughts begin to cloud her consciousness. How she can end her pain, her exhaustion and frustration, her life of suffering and fruitless striving. It would be so easy to crawl to the edge, let herself fall to oblivion. Her body hitting the ground would be much more satisfying than the pipe. A final protest to this hellish existence that has the nerve to call itself a life.

A pathetic protest, though. Catra’s forehead creases at the thought. She’s always been determined to go down fighting. And suicide? That’s even more disgraceful than running away. Catra can just hear what people would say. _That poor, stupid animal couldn’t handle it, couldn’t handle anything. She was weak, a coward, a disgrace. She gave up._

Catra won’t give up.

Letting her forehead kiss the cool metal of the crane, Catra releases a shuddering sigh and a few residual tears. She tips over onto her side, stretching out her legs before settling on her back. Eyelids creaking open, she looks up at the heavens.

“Why?” she whispers. To Shadow Weaver, to the Horde, to the whole goddamn universe.

“Why?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catra x Therapy is the ultimate otp of this series I s2g


	20. Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah there was a bit of a delay here, but I was busy writing [nsfw](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21110984) Catradora so I'd say it was time well spent. ;)
> 
> In any case, this is the chapter you guys get (almost) everything you want. Happy Halloween!

Eyes scrunching shut, Catra covers her mouth in an attempt to suppress a yawn. It leaks out through her fingers all the same, high and squeaky and embarrassing. Blinking the focus back into her eyes, she flicks them around in search of witnesses. Seeing no cadets looking her way, she sighs in relief and folds her arms back together. She scowls into the sparring circle, watching but hardly paying attention. Is she really supposed to give a shit about any of this?

A few more moves and Lonnie is victorious, slamming her opponent on his back before rolling and dragging his wrist into a devastating arm bar. He taps out and Lonnie gets a modest amount of applause as she stands. Grinning with a sweeping bow, she offers a hand to her opponent, who takes it grudgingly. Kyle and another boy take their places in the circle and Lonnie shares high fives with a few cadets on her way out. She’s nursing a sprained ankle from a couple days ago, but you wouldn’t know it by the way she struts.

When Lonnie’s eyes lock onto hers, Catra groans internally. Of course Lonnie can’t just ignore the folded ears, crossed arms and twitchy tail that very clearly say ‘leave me the fuck alone.’ No, that’s like a homing beacon for Lonnie. She’s always gotten a kick out of getting under Catra’s skin.

Well, Catra won’t give her the satisfaction. As Lonnie sidles up to her, she extends a congratulatory fist. “Nice armbar, dipshit.”

Lonnie grins, bumping it with pride. “Thanks, bitch.”

She turns to the circle and they stand silently side by side, watching as the next fight gets underway. In theory, anyway. Catra’s zoning out, her lips sinking into a frown as she settles back into the numb, dark, heavy place she’s been inhabiting today. Grief, she supposes, though not in the usual sense of the word. She’s not grieving that abusive witch who tormented her all those years, body and soul. No, what she’s grieving is the end of their relationship, how it’s encased in stone forever, how she’ll have no more chances to make things right. No more chances to make Shadow Weaver proud, to earn a gentle touch and kind words, to earn her pride and her trust. But that’s bullshit, and she knows it. Those things were never earned, never given fairly.

Catra grits her teeth, glaring straight ahead. Today’s numbness has been punctuated by occasional bursts of anger, rage so blinding it makes her wants to tear her own skin to shreds to purge the feeling from her body. She rides out this latest wave of fury in silence, clenching her fists but keeping her claws sheathed to avoid making a scene in public. She takes a few deep breaths, pushing them out until the sensation releases her and she sinks back into the depths.

Shadow Weaver is gone. Catra will never get what she needs. It’s over.

“What’s eating you?”

Catra jumps slightly at the invasive words, turning to find Lonnie watching her with those infuriatingly smug green eyes. Licking her lips, Lonnie cracks, “I know it isn’t Adora.”

Catra’s eyes narrow and she gives Lonnie a weak shove, prompting a laugh. “Nothing’s eating me,” she growls. “I’m fine.”

“Then why aren’t you sparring?” asks Lonnie. “Usually you love the chance to beat the shit out of some dumb human.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Catra answers flatly, mouth twitching only slightly. She doesn’t have the energy to be indignant. She doesn’t give a shit.

Nodding with an exaggerated hum, Lonnie remarks, “You’ve been weird all day, dude. Broody, like more than normal.” Catra summons the strength to shoot her a withering glare, but she’s undeterred. “You snuck into the barracks after midnight last night, then you woke me up again with your snivelling at four in the fucking morning,” she says with a glare of her own. “You owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you anything, assface,” retorts Catra, jamming a threatening claw against her chest. “And I was only snivelling because I inhaled something weird up on the rooftops.”

Lonnie tips her head with a condescending smirk. “Sure, Catra.”

“I’m serious,” insists Catra. “There must’ve been some kind of spill in one of the factories.”

“Uh huh.”

Catra turns away with a glower, shaking her head. “Whatever, fuck you.”

“You wish,” snickers Lonnie.

“Ughhh!” Catra smacks her forehead with a huge sigh of exasperation. “Fine, I’ll fight you if it will get you to shut up. For fuck’s sakes, Lonnie.”

Chuckling deeply beside her, Lonnie slings an arm around Catra’s shoulder and gives her a playful shake. “That’s my girl.”

Catra would usually shove Lonnie away in this situation, but she doesn’t this time. She’s too tired to fight the contact and needs to save her strength for the actual fight. Besides, it’s not the end of the world. Lonnie’s arm is beefy but not so heavy as to be uncomfortable. The pressure is actually kind of soothing in a way, clearing Catra’s mind and lulling her into a state of calm. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone, let alone Lonnie.

A loud thud and a howl of pain pierce the air, snapping Catra back to the moment. Her ears prick up at the familiar sound and she moves toward it on instinct, only to realize she’s half a step behind Lonnie. Humans like to say that cats aren’t pack animals, she’s heard that one many times as a reason she can’t be trusted. Catra is no more an animal than anyone else here, but she thinks Magicats must be different from their feline relatives in that way. The urge to protect her pack is overwhelming and immutable. One of her squadmates is hurt, and she needs to be there to help. Now.

She and Lonnie arrive at the edge of the circle to find Kyle sprawled on his stomach, moaning and writhing, pounding the floor as he tries to hold back wails of pain. It’s not immediately apparent what the problem is from Catra’s vantage point, but Rogelio is already kneeling on Kyle’s other side, telling him to breathe and that he’s going to be fine.

The instructor, some lower tier officer Catra doesn’t really know, steps into the ring. Pushing Kyle’s worried sparring partner aside, he shouts, “Enough theatrics! Get up and fight!” 

Catra feels Lonnie tense beside her, hears Rogelio snorting at Kyle that his leg is broken and he’d better stay the fuck down. Cringing in anticipation, Catra peeks over Kyle’s body and immediately wishes she hadn’t. The sight of his unnaturally bent shinbone sends a shudder of sympathy through her bones.

The instructor must not have any reptile friends (likely) or he understands and is a complete and utter asshole (also likely), because he keeps yelling at Kyle, “Come on, don’t be such a princess! I said get up, you coward!”

The boys’ wailing and snorting is getting them nowhere, so Lonnie intercedes. Gesturing down at the deformed limb, she shouts over the din. “His leg’s broken! You really think that’s a good idea?”

The instructor’s mouth falls open and he peers down at Kyle and then back up at Lonnie, his face turning red. “Don’t talk to me that way, Cadet!” he barks. “You’re running laps for the next half hour.”

Lonnie blinks, purging her face of emotion. “I’m just trying to help. You needed a translator.”

“The next hour!” he shouts. “Wanna push it more?”

Scowling, Lonnie shakes her head tersely and begins to push her way out of the circle of cadets. Watching her go, the instructor puffs out his chest and waves a dismissive hand down at Kyle.

“Someone take this weakling to the infirmary,” he orders.

Rogelio glares up at the instructor, though to be fair the asshole probably can’t read reptilian expressions either. Lucky Hel. Rolling his whimpering boyfriend to lie on his back, which results in another howl of pain, he grunts out an apology. Then, supporting the injured leg with one massive arm and the rest of his body with the other, he scoops Kyle up and carries him away.

As the crowd reforms around the sparring circle, the instructor claps Kyle’s partner on the shoulder and declares, “Alright, let’s get a real soldier in here to fight this guy!”

The cadets erupt into cheers and several rush forward to take Kyle’s place, which results in a couple of impromptu fights as they try to push each other out of the circle. Catra is knocked back into the crowd in the process, but she doesn’t react with her usual bared teeth and claws, too busy staring slack-jawed at the chaos. Never in her life has she felt more disconnected from her surroundings, not even when she wanted to be.

At one point in her life (okay, many points), Catra would have been clamoring along with the rest of them. For a chance not just to prove herself, but to avenge her injured squadmate. But she feels no need to prove herself to this incompetent asshole of an instructor, and it’s not that kid’s fault they’re compelled to fight each other like this. He clearly felt terrible about Kyle, anyway.

As Catra watches the scene play out, watches the instructor continue to egg the cadets on, only one clear thought forms in her head.

What the fuck is wrong with these people?

Seriously. How is it weak and cowardly not to stand and fight on a broken leg? That’s not how the body works. Then again, they also like to say that deserters are weak and cowardly. Maybe they don’t know what those words even mean. Maybe weak and cowardly just means having a mind of your own.

Catra’s eyes track Lonnie as she hobbles around the room with a red face and clenched fists. Though she isn’t visibly fuming in the same way, a similar heat smolders deep in Catra’s belly, filling her mind with treasonous thoughts. The whole thing is so fucking unfair. But that’s hardly some grand revelation. Nothing that happens in the Fright Zone is fair.

So what is she even doing here?

That thought in particular makes Catra blink. Hard. She knows why she’s here, she’s been saying it over and over, clinging to these words, this need. She needs to show them they were wrong, she needs to achieve what everyone thought her incapable of. If she leaves, she’ll never do that, and everything that happened here would be for nothing. But if nothing is fair here, rising to the top says nothing about her qualifications, only her ability to work the system. A system that’s absolute bullshit.

And who does she need to prove it to, anyway? These mindless idiots submitting to an incompetant authority figure? Her temperamental former boss who put blind faith in her one day and took it away the next? Her deceased sorry excuse for a mother? Her ex-best friend who left her alone to suffer, but has since come to understand her wrongdoings? No… the only person Catra really needs to prove it to is herself. But if the system is bullshit, there’s nothing to prove, only a painful void to fill with… something.

Scorpia’s words from last night filter into Catra’s brain through the distant sounds of cheering and shouting. If it feels like everything is for nothing, she needs to find a way to make something of her suffering so she can be at peace. Her eyes fall on Lonnie again, her ears recalling Kyle’s sounds of agony. If she can stop other people from being hurt the way she was, would that make something of it? Would that be enough to satisfy the longing deep inside her, to heal the yawning, yearning chasm Shadow Weaver created with her rejection and cruelty, with her refusal to provide validation and affection? Catra doesn’t know.

All Catra knows is she’s done with this shit.

***

The hallway is silent save for the usual machine hum and the grunts Lonnie’s making with every other step as she limps through the barracks complex. Neither she nor Catra is in the mood to talk, not now. They just came from the infirmary, where they found Kyle unconscious and about to go into surgery. Rogelio was pacing around and taking full advantage of his somewhat obscure language, grunting and huffing about the asshole instructor. If anyone else understood him they didn’t say so, but Catra can’t help worrying nonetheless. Her tender eye socket throbs at the thought of what could happen to him.

Of course, Lonnie didn’t take the opportunity to get her ankle looked at while they were there. Medical attention, the horror! Catra gets it, she does, it’s just that everything seems extra stupid right now. The insubordinate shit Hel was spouting off is nothing compared to the treasonous thoughts still bouncing around in her head.

Catra considered offering Lonnie a piggyback ride or an arm for support, but she values her life too much. Lonnie’s just as prideful as she is. And as much as she despises showing weakness, she’s also a dramatic little bitch. Lonnie’s gonna suffer, and she’s gonna make sure everyone knows about it.

Lonnie’s overblown sigh of relief announces their arrival at their own dorm. Hobbling to the nearest bunk - Adora’s - she plops down and rips the tensor bandage off her ankle, scowling at the swollen joint.

Catra’s eyes narrow at the invasion of her territory, but she says nothing. A few days ago she would’ve punched Lonnie for such an indiscretion, but they’ve been getting on surprisingly well since her return. Besides, it’s hardly fair to make Lonnie climb up to her own bunk on a bad ankle after she was forced to run laps for no good reason. She’s the one who chose a top bunk back in the day (fought someone for it, actually), but it has its disadvantages.

Rolling her foot with a wince, Lonnie mutters, “What a fucking dick.”

Catra would gladly chime in, but she’s still sporting bruises from the last time she spoke too freely with no form of protection. Right now she really wishes she had Scorpia’s sound blocker box with her, or the new and improved version that lives in Entrapta’s lab, but she never thought she’d need it anywhere but with them. They’re the only two people she confides in, these days.

Scanning the room for some kind of alternative, Catra’s eyes settle on the vacuum bot sitting dormant in the corner. It’s a small machine, but loud and clunky as they come. It’s perfect.

Striding over to the bot, Catra squats down and taps in a few commands. It comes to life with a chorus of whirs and beeps, prompting another round of bitching from Lonnie.

“Are you serious, Catra?” she shouts over the escalating noises as the bot begins to crawl across the floor. “Are you actually fucking serious right now?”

Stepping over the stupid thing, Catra looks her dead in the eye and says, “Shut up, Lonnie.”

Lonnie recoils slightly, mouth falling open as she stares up at Catra. Her fists clench and she hisses, “I hate that fucking thing.”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately for us, we’re not lizards,” Catra shoots back. “And I dunno about you, but I don’t want another concussion. Do you want peace and quiet, or a chance to vent?”

Lonnie’s eyebrows arch, and Catra suddenly remembers she never told Lonnie who attacked her or why. Her eyes flick away, arms instinctually crossing over her chest.

Thankfully Lonnie doesn’t press for details, either out of sympathy or because she’s too keen on complaining. “Seriously, though, who promoted that asshole?”

“Probably some other asshole,” Catra snarks with a shrug. “The higher ranks are full of them.”

“Yeah, well you would know,” huffs Lonnie.

Putting on her best grin, Catra jokes, “It’s practically a requirement. How do you think I got second-in-command so fast?”

Lonnie grunts out something only vaguely resembling a laugh, not looking Catra in the eye. Reaching for the bandage, she sets to work rewrapping her ankle.

Frowning, Catra sinks down to sit beside her. “You worried about Kyle?”

Lonnie rolls her eyes and mutters, “I’m always worried about Kyle.”

Catra watches her squadmate in silence for a moment, carefully crafting her argument. As Lonnie finishes wrapping, she leans back on her hands and remarks, “Maybe it would be better for him if he didn’t have to be a soldier.”

“He doesn’t have to be,” grunts Lonnie, securing the bandage. “Once we graduate he can choose to be a factory worker.”

“Yeah, in what? Two more years?”

“He’s survived this long.” When Lonnie looks up to meet Catra’s gaze, her eyes widen briefly before narrowing. She speaks slowly, hints of warning in her tone. “What are you trying to say, Catra?”

“You said you’d protect him with your life…” Catra reminds her, shrugging casually as she trails off. “Maybe the best way to protect him is to take him somewhere safer.”

Lonnie blinks hard. “Okay, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Dropping all pretenses, Catra sighs and fully faces her. “I’m serious, Lonnie.”

“So am I.” Lonnie stares at her for a few seconds, looking both disgusted and curious. “Since when do you want to leave?”

Catra can’t look at her anymore. The shame of entertaining such weak thoughts is threatening to crush her, and knowing it’s messed up doesn’t make it any better. Swallowing hard, she resolves to be honest. If she shares her own feelings of disenchantment, maybe it will allow Lonnie to identify her own. Talking about it has got to be a step forward, in any case.

“It’s more like since when do I not,“ she admits, ears flattening defensively. Her jaw and shoulders clench as all her instincts fight her, scream at her to shut up, but she presses on. “When I got promoted I could finally prove them all wrong. Before that… well, if Adora had asked me to leave with her, I would have.” Catra snorts, arms crossing over her chest. “I mean, if she’d asked me as more than an afterthought.”

“So she did ask you,” concludes Lonnie. There’s an undertone of accusation there that makes Catra’s head snap up.

“Yeah, but she was leaving either way,” Catra spouts, suddenly defensive. “She didn’t want to leave _for_ me, give up everything she’d worked for to show she cared about me. That would’ve been different.”

“Still more of an offer than any of the rest of us got,” retorts Loonie, a bitter edge to her voice.

“That’s why I’m saying this now,” stresses Catra. Her eyes squeeze shut as she attempts a calming breath. When they flutter back open, she finds Lonnie staring at her slack-jawed. “Don’t look at me like that. I know it didn’t just hurt me when Adora left us behind, okay? I get that. And I don’t wanna do the same thing.”

Tension slowly leaks from Lonnie’s posture until she finally sighs, combing a hand through her dreads. Resignation taints her eyes and voice as she asks, “When?”

“I’m not sure. I kinda just decided,” admits Catra. Hesitating a couple seconds, she reiterates, “You could come too, you know. You and the boys. I want you to. You could have a better life than…” she gestures around the dorm, “this.”

Lonnie’s face hardens again. “I can survive here just fine.”

“I know,” Catra assures her. “So can I. But maybe… maybe we shouldn’t have to, you know?” She blinks down to her lap, brow creasing as she nibbles her lip. “Maybe we deserve better.”

This is all so weird.

Sighing once more, Lonnie asks, “Where would we even go?”

Catra’s head shakes sharply on impulse. “I can’t tell you that. Not until we’re out of here.”

Lonnie squints. “You want me to leave my whole life behind to run off with you, no clue where we’re going? Catra, that’s a lot to ask.”

“I’m not asking, I’m offering,” counters Catra. When Lonnie’s head shakes and her eyes fall, she fights to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Okay, well. Just know that if you decide to leave later, there’s a place for you. Once we defect, I think you’ll know where.”

“We?” Lonnie blinks.

“Stop asking so many damn questions,” Catra scolds her with a soft elbow to the ribs. “Trust me, you’ll get it.”

“A’ight,” shrugs Lonnie. “We’ll see about that.”

Smiling into her collar, Catra admits, “I hope you come. I could use a sparring partner who’s not afraid to kick my ass.”

“Sure,” chuckles Lonnie.

“‘Kay, well.” Suddenly fidgety, Catra stands and nods at the door. “I’m gonna go check in with Entrapta, see what nonsense she’s up to today.” Giving Lonnie a tight smile, she turns to leave.

“Turn off that stupid bot on your way out,” Lonnie calls after her. Catra glares at her demanding tone and she tosses a hand in the air. “What? I’m not chasing it around on this ankle.”

“Fine,” grumbles Catra. She tracks the thing down and yanks it out from under one of the bunks, resulting in an ear-splitting screech of protest. When she finally gets the stupid thing turned off she sighs in relief, making her way back to its home in the corner. Setting it down gently, she heads for the door.

“Hey, Catra?” Lonnie’s voice stops Catra in her tracks, and she turns to see those green eyes uncharacteristically unguarded. Lonnie’s whole face is relaxed, actually, something Catra can’t claim to have seen in years. Her mouth twitches in acknowledgement. “Thanks for asking.”

Holding her gaze a moment, Catra snorts. “Yeah,” she says. “Least I could do.”

Exiting the barracks, Catra marches straight to Entrapta’s lab. She’s set this whole thing in motion, and now she has to follow through. Lonnie’s not a narc, Catra knows that, but she’s too prideful to chicken out or go back on her word. Not to mention stubborn as fuck. Once Catra’s set her mind to something, prying her from that resolution is next to impossible. One of the many ways in which she and Adora are alike.

The lab doors slide open to reveal Entrapta perched on Scorpia’s pincers, their lips mashed together. Entrapta’s gloved hands caress Scorpia’s cheeks, hair molesting her bulging arms as she hums into the kiss. The door opening and closing makes no impression on them whatsoever. Must be a pretty good kiss.

Catra’s nose wrinkles. Stepping closer, she crosses her arms and clears her throat loudly.

While Entrapta seems too preoccupied with her current fascination to notice, which is pretty normal for her anyway, Scorpia’s eyes flick Catra’s way and bulge. Extricating her lips, she says, “Oh. Um...” She points at Catra, leaving Entrapta supported by one beefy arm as she turns to look.

Entrapta releases a nervous chuckle, waving sheepishly. “Uh, hi Catra.” Hopping down, she continues, “Sorry, we were just-”

“Hey, Trapta,” Catra interjects as she approaches, waving away the explanation she so does not want to hear. “Is your box turned on?”

Entrapta’s mouth falls open. “My- my what?”

“Your sound box thing, you know,” Catra tries, not wanting to be too specific in case it’s not powered up.

“Oh, the mobile audio interference module 2.0! Yes, I have it on permanently, since I have a difficult time containing myself when I get excited and I’ve been working on this highly sensitive data retrieval mission.”

Tipping her head, Catra casually inquires, “How’s that coming, anyway?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked! I’ve made some incredible breakthroughs!” Springing over to her desk in one hop, Entrapta begins typing wildly, pulling up file after file on the various screens. “Hordak has some real tricky firewalls surrounding his most sensitive files, but I got past them! I haven’t had time to read them all yet, but the ones I have read are fascinating. Real juicy, and useful, too. We’ll definitely be able to use this as a peace offering.”

Catra’s brow furrows. “Peace offering?”

“To the rebellion!” explains Entrapta. “So the Princess Alliance will take us back in and agree to protect Dryl when- I mean, _if_ we defect.”

The floor shifts beneath Catra’s feet, her eyes glazing over as a wave of nausea rises in her gut. This… no. Scorpia said they were going to fuck off to Dryl, not cozy up with the enemy. What the fuck is going on?

Squirming beside Catra, Scorpia interjects, “Uh, Entrapta, Catra’s not down for joining the Alliance.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Catra says flatly, fighting the tension in her jaw. “I’m not a princess.”

“Of course not, I meant me and possibly Scorpia,” Entrapta clarifies with a wave of her hand, eyes not leaving the screens. “Sorry, Catra.”

“It’s fine,” grumbles Catra, thumbs catching in her belts as she jams her hands downward. “I never had a big shiny sword or a dumb tiara to get me in the door. I know how it goes.”

Entrapta pushes off from her desk, careening towards them on her rolling chair. She skids to a stop a foot away and hops up onto it, bending down to look Catra dead in the eyes. Suddenly her hair shoots out, culling a surprised squeak from Catra as she pulls and prods at her face. Catra’s scowl deepens and she swats away the encroaching lilac tendrils.

“Downturned mouth, tight cheeks, creased forehead, outbursts of hostility,” remarks Entrapta. Hopping off her chair, she straightens up proudly and concludes, “You seem annoyed.”

“No shit, genius,” mutters Catra, kicking the chair for good measure.

As it rattles away, Entrapta gets right up in her face again. “Is it because you don’t want to get involved with the people who stole the girl you love away from you, and you’re too prideful to join them after refusing her offer the first time?”

A rather insane smile stretches across Catra’s face. Still looking at Entrapta, she very sweetly says, “Scorpia, I’m gonna fucking murder you.”

Entrapta is undeterred. Perching on her hair, she rests her gloved hands on Catra’s shoulders and holds her gaze earnestly. “Catra, we need to go somewhere, and Dryl is by far the safest option, at least in terms of fortifications. Plus, you know, all my stuff is there. But that’s the first place they’ll look, so we need me to be reinstated into the Alliance so we can call on them to protect us if the Horde comes for us. Make sense?”

“Uh, doesn’t your kingdom have an army?”

“Eh, not much of one, to be honest,” admits Entrapta. “The Horde could basically walk in and take it at any time.”

Catra squints. “But you think it’s safe there?”

Entrapta shrugs and answers with her usual brand of brutal honesty. “Safer than anywhere else,” she declares, sweeping her arms around dramatically.

“Huh.” Catra’s brow furrows, foot tapping out a rhythm while her tail sways behind her.

“What’s going on, Catra?” Scorpia pipes up, squinting at her ominous body language.

Catra takes a deep breath, waits for her mind and body to try to talk her out of it. But they don’t. The words come surprisingly easy.

“I’m ready to move on,” she says.

Scorpia’s eyelids flutter obtusely. “Huh?”

Catra doesn’t even roll her eyes. “I’m leaving the Horde,” she spells out. “We’re leaving the Horde.”

Suddenly Catra’s feet leave the ground, her yelp of surprise dwarfed by the loud wheeze of all the air leaving her body. Somehow Scorpia manages to squeeze her even tighter, making her wince in agony as her ribs creak and crush her lungs.

“Oh, kitty!” she squeals. “I’m so proud of you!”

Still unable to emit more than a squeak, Catra winces and slams her fist down against Scorpia’s back until she loosens her grip.

“Oh, sorry!” Scorpia backpedals, placing Catra back on her feet. “I mean, ‘Wildcat.’”

Doubled over panting with her hands on her knees, it takes Catra a couple sounds to comprehend the apology. It didn’t even occur to her just now to be offended by the term she once snapped at Scorpia over. Then again, there were more important things to worry about than some vaguely demeaning nickname.

“I was gonna say I can’t breathe,” Catra clarifies as she straightens up. Averting her eyes with a frown, she mumbles, “I got enough of that already from Hordak and Shadow Weaver.”

“What?”

Waving Scorpia off, Catra mutters, “Forget it.”

Scorpia frowns, brow crinkling in concern. Putting a hand on Catra’s back, she steers her to the side of the room, out of Entrapta's earshot. Not that it matters, she’s already fully absorbed in her work again, muttering to herself and typing up a storm.

Resting a claw on Catra’s shoulder, Scorpia gently says, “Hey, look, I know there’s a lot of baggage keeping you here.” She tips her head, examining Catra with those soft, perceptive eyes. “You sure you’re ready to leave it all behind?”

Catra closes her eyes and tries to think about it, but truly, there’s nothing left to think about. Today’s events lifted some kind of veil shrouding her mind, throwing into sharp relief several truths she wasn’t able to acknowledge before. She has nothing left to prove. This isn’t worth it. She doesn’t want to be here.

Ready or not, something inside of Catra has let go.

“Yeah,” she declares. A smile crosses her face. A smile of triumph, yes. But even more so, it’s a smile of relief. “Yeah. I guess I’ve made my peace with it.”

***

It’s just before lights out when Catra comes across Lonnie in the barracks. She’s reclined back against the wall in her bunk, foot propped up on a pillow she seems to have stolen from Catra’s unused bed, engrossed in a book. Grinning to herself, Catra ducks down, sneaking around her own bunk before popping her head up over the side of Lonnie’s.

“Hey, so I was thinki-”

“Ah!” Lonnie jumps, tossing the book in the air as her head swivels to locate the intruder. 

Catra cackles gleefully, ducking to avoid Lonnie’s swatting hand before jumping up to join her in one hop. “What’s up, gibble?”

“Please,” huffs Lonnie, smoothing back her dreads. “I can walk. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Catra makes herself right at home, crawling up to squeeze in beside Lonnie. It’s the perfect revenge for Lonnie’s invasion of Adora’s bunk. Ignoring Lonnie’s pointed glare, she asks, “Any news on Kyle?”

Lonnie blinks away for a second, tongue tucked under her lip. “He’s out,” she answers tersely. “He’ll heal.”

“Good.” Catra nods, eyes drifting away. Lonnie doesn’t move to make room for her, but she doesn’t push her off the edge either. Finally Catra says, “Tomorrow.”

Lonnie’s eyelids flutter. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, what are you up to tomorrow?” asks Catra, raising a pointed eyebrow. “There’s a tech-gathering mission leaving at dawn. Usually they just use robots but apparently some of the sensors have gone screwy, so they’re taking soldiers to be another set of eyes.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “They could use a few more bodies.”

“They?” Lonnie squints. “You’re not going?”

“Well, I am hitching a ride to the woods, but actually I’m setting off looking for Adora,” clarifies Catra. “Might be gone awhile.”

There’s a flash of recognition in Lonnie’s expression. “Right, your personal mission from Hordak.”

“Yeah.” Poking her in the ribs, Catra prods, “Anyway, should I tell them you can help? Gibbles like you and Kyle are ideal, actually. They could actually get some use out of you.”

Lonnie’s eyes flit to Kyle’s empty bunk, then down to her lap. “Kyle’s gonna be in the infirmary for a couple days still, and I have to be here for the boys. Besides, I just… I can’t right now.”

“I understand,” says Catra. She really, really does. If Lonnie leaves, it’s got to be on her own time, her own terms. But Catra couldn’t very well leave her squad behind without offering a way out. A little bit of hope.

Eyes scanning the room full of cadets getting ready to turn in, Catra leans into Lonnie and puts a hand to her ear. “Dryl,” she whispers.

As Catra pulls back Lonnie blinks, then nods in understanding. Shielding her mouth with one hand, she mouths, “Entrapta and Scorpia?”

“Mm,” Catra hums.

Frowning in thought, Lonnie nods once more, staring down at her lap for a moment. Meeting Catra’s gaze again, she says, “Thanks for trusting me.” Her eyes dart around and she quickly adds, “You know, plugging me for a mission and all.” She twitches her mouth slightly. “I know I haven’t done much to earn it.”

A smile starts pushing its way onto Catra’s face, so she morphs it into a smirk. “What can I say? We’re squadmates, I care about you guys too.”

“You have funny ways of showing it,” remarks Lonnie.

Truly grinning now, Catra retorts, “I could say the same for you, dipshit.”

Lonnie huffs, but she’s smiling. “Don’t get all sappy on me, now.”

“Me, sappy?” Catra scoffs. “Say that again and you’ll end up like Octavia.”

“A Force Captain?”

“No, with only-” Catra cuts herself off as she spots the gleam in Lonnie’s eyes. “You’re fucking with me.”

Lonnie cackles, no doubt enjoying this final chance to get on Catra’s nerves. As her laughter dies down, her expression turns pensive and she extends a hand. “Good luck, Catra. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks.” Catra lets a genuine smile shine through as she grasps Lonnie’s hand in a solid shake. Then she turns and lets her legs dangle off the bed, preparing to drop. Teetering on the edge, she looks back over her shoulder. “See you soon.”

As she hops down, she hears Lonnie mutter, “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

***

The blanket off Adora’s bed. An electronic map, a shock baton, a hoodie, a week’s worth of rations. This is all Catra stuffs into her backpack at the crack of dawn. She already stashed most of her personal belongings in Emily’s cargo compartment last night, alongside Scorpia’s keepsakes. Not that there was much to begin with.

Even Catra’s featherlight footsteps echo in the hallways when they’re this quiet, utterly deserted. The wake-up siren has yet to sound, leaving her alone with her thoughts as she strolls toward the vehicle bay. Finding the skiff parked on the loading dock, as promised, Catra wanders to the edge.

That familiar heaviness settles on Catra’s shoulders as she looks out over the Fright Zone. The place she grew from a frightened child into a hardened soldier. The place she suffered humiliation, abuse, neglect. The place that failed to fulfill so many of her deepest longings and needs.

This place leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, a tang as acrid as the polluted air. It tastes like disappointment, broken promises, wasted potential. But there’s a sweet undertone to it, one that makes it palatable. It brings a sad smile to Catra’s lips.

This is the place she met Adora. The place she met Scorpia, and Lonnie and Rogelio and Kyle. The place she learned to fight, and to love. The place she had her first kiss. The Fright Zone houses some of Catra’s fondest memories. But those, those she can take with her.

She just wishes she could leave the bad ones behind.

Catra’s ear flicks slightly at the heavy footsteps behind her, her twitching nose picking up Scorpia’s scent with ease. She stays silent even when the footsteps cease, glazed eyes taking in the shadows cast across the complex by the earliest shades of dawn.

This was her home.

Hesitating a moment, Scorpia ventures, “You sure about this, Catra?”

Eyes lingering just a moment longer, Catra says, “Yeah, I’m sure.” She turns to Scorpia with a smile, resignation and excitement battling to control her lips. “Let’s go somewhere better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Akari Hope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkariHope/pseuds/AkariHope) for betaing this chapter! Since it was so important for Catra I wanted an extra eye on this one. If you haven't read her cute but painful [modern au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20224906) I highly recommend it!
> 
> Yes, next chapter is the long awaited Catradora reunion. Stay tuned!
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy season 4... if that's even the word for it. I dunno, I'm a little scared. Can't wait for Noelle to torture me some more.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me under this same alias on [Tumblr](https://johannas-motivational-insults.tumblr.com) and [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCBWynASewRzav2LzSTbKILw) if you want to come scream with me about Catra feels and She-Ra in general. Shameless plug, if dark Catra shit appeals to you then you'll probably like my vids too. ;)
> 
> If you're enjoying my work and are feeling generous, please consider dropping me a few bucks on [my Ko-fi page](https://ko-fi.com/johannas_motivational_insults). Writing is a time-consuming hobby, and as they say, time is money. Anything helps, thank you! If you can't support financially, I also appreciate fic recs and comments. Let me know what's working for you! I enjoy interacting with my readers, feel free to come chat with me on Tumblr. :)


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